


astrophyllite

by valleyofthewind



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Comedy, Coming of Age, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, ish, read disclaimer in notes for more, soonhao as best friends is so important to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleyofthewind/pseuds/valleyofthewind
Summary: in which soonyoung just wants to play the saxophone but seokmin, that guy he's hated basically his entire life, decides to play with his heart. he struggles his way through life, thoughts and senior year of high school along with his best friends who may or may not be dating each other. shit ensues





	astrophyllite

**Author's Note:**

> i thought this would be ≈ 4-5k words but then it spiralled... how did it end up like this it was only a prompt it wsa only a prompt now she's falling asleep
> 
> disclaimer: this story contains underage drinking, the f slur a handful of times, a shit tonne of swearing/sex jokes and implied sex once (NO actual sexual content!). i still consider it to be rated T, but you have been warned

 

Soonyoung hates his best friends, but _mostly_ Lee Seokmin.

Which is why he agrees to do it.

“Wait, I have to document this,” Minghao is saying now, half-tipsy, laughing and digging out his phone.

Junhui pipes in with a, “Shit.”

“You're fucking _dead_ , dude,” Mingyu says.

“Keep it _down,_ ” Soonyoung says, shushing them offhandedly. There's no point – If Minghao and Mingyu get excited over anything, especially after glasses of punch with vodka in, there's no way to get them to shut them up. Junhui's naturally more reserved, but he's a snappy teenager when he needs to be; the quiet, calm portrayal he puts on in front of strangers being only a modicum of his entire personality. Soonyoung? He spends his life overthinking – but only when he's sober. “It's like, 2 a.m.”

“What if they wake up?” Mingyu bites his nails. A nervous habit. Mingyu's mostly a confident person. His anxiousness only really shows in situations like these where he's the only one with any thoughts of possible future consequences.

“Pussy,” Minghao says, hitting his waist.

“Yeah, Gyu,” Junhui says. “Don't ruin the mood.”

“I'm thinking realistically,” Mingyu says. “Sorry, is it too intellectually demanding to be around people with brains?”

“Shut the fuck,” Soonyoung says. Junhui rolls his eyes. That's the kind of person he is – shrugs and eye rolls and hand see-sawing – a body language person. “So, I'm really gonna do this?”

“Why not?” Minghao asks and continues to murmur to himself as he tries to figure out the latest update on his phone. “No, I don't want fucking notifs from the Health app–” He lets out a loud sigh and gives up. Shuts the phone down and redirects his attention to Soonyoung. “You _'hate'_ that guy.”

Soonyoung looks at him. “Why the air-quotes on 'hate'?”

Minghao laughs. “Whatever.” He shares this look with Mingyu, as if they're not divulging some sort of secret between them.

There's only one streetlight above them and Soonyoung's struggling to even make out their faces. “What's this about?” He looks at them sceptically. At least what he _thinks_ is them.

Minghao ignores him, grinning. “Just get on with it.”

“Yeah, faggot,” Junhui says. When he does open his mouth; it's to snap a short argument, statement or witty remark like this. Which is why body language suits him the best.

Mingyu punches his shoulder. “Faggot is a _homophobic slur_ , asshole.”

“I'm literally gay,” Junhui says, laughing.

“He's literally gay,” Minghao repeats. “Stop being fake politically correct.”

Mingyu raises his eyebrows. “Oh, when have _you_ ever cared about–”

Soonyoung promptly ignores them and throws the first egg at Seokmin's house. Not even aiming. It hits the roof and runs down to the window lethargically.

And, as mentioned, if he was sober, he would probably be regretting this about now.

Since he's not – thankfully – he just grins and feels adrenaline immediately starts pumping through his body. He notices that Minghao and Mingyu are about to burst into cheers and hastily shushes them, looking around quickly. They're standing on the street's pavement, only a few metres away from enemy territory. It's a nice neighbourhood. One of those most likely full of families where the parents are dentists and lawyers and have been happily married for 20 years.

It's only a few blocks away from Mingyu's house, yet they still had to use Google Maps to walk there, which means it's practically another country. Soonyoung lets this information run through his head whilst praying that all of the neighbours are deep in sleep, throwing the next egg. Watching it drip slowly to the ground.

“This is so stupid and immature,” Junhui says. His words are slightly slurred.

“Just like you,” Mingyu says. But even he's trying to hide his awe. Failing to hide his awe. “And if someone in these fancy villa houses spots us doing it, we're busted. These people are the type of people to like, call the police when they see a teenager skateboarding in public.”

Soonyoung nods. “Seriously, right? These houses just scream _Let Me Speak to the Manager._ ”

Junhui shrugs. “And? It's stupid and immature, but it's fun.”

“Agreed,” Minghao says.

Wen Junhui and Xu Minghao don't agree on things often, but when they do it's _seriously_ scary. Together, they could do anything. Two unstoppable forces put together to one.

“Guys.” Soonyoung smirks. “It's like, so satisfying, _God_.”

Here's the first thing about Lee Seokmin: Soonyoung has hated him since primary school.

Ever since the first day of year 1 when they had to pick adjectives that began with the same letter as their name and Seokmin chose 'super' before Soonyoung had the chance to. This hate he has (which has undeniably grown over the years) is based mostly on the petty fights that sometimes break out between their two friendship groups and the rivalry that's always been there. Seokmin being the school's popular swimmer with douchebag elitist friends who love starting arguments and Soonyoung being the token homosexual band dude with a friendship group consisting of homosexual band (Minghao and Junhui) and string orchestra (Mingyu) dudes.

Yes – a living high school cliché. His entire _life_ is a cliché.

Every single day, _Lee Seokmin this, Lee Seokmin that_. Even hearing his name irks Soonyoung.

And now? He's unleashing it on a stupid drunk dare he received.

The real reason he agreed wasn't just because of Seokmin; maybe it was also because of all of the random bursts of annoyance he's been holding onto over the past ten years, or maybe the alcohol, or maybe the adrenaline bursting into his veins from the first mention of Seokmin, or maybe it'd been Mingyu and Minghao endorsing him to get revenge for all the times the popular athletes had screwed them over. All of these key factors leading him to the present, armed with eggs from Mingyu's refrigerator, not even thinking straight.

“Throw another one,” Minghao says. “Hit his _window_.”

“I don't know which one his window is,” Soonyoung says, choosing out third egg and inspecting it.

“Bet he does,” Mingyu mutters.

Minghao snorts. “Yeah, you probably do.”

Soonyoung takes the egg between his thumb and index finger to show it off. “This could've made some bomb scrambled eggs.” And then he throws it directly at the window on the left. Again, not even thinking straight anymore. Barely _seeing_ straight anymore. “ _Rest in peace._ ”

“Headshot.” Junhui smirks. Minghao silently cheers and Mingyu cracks a smile at their reactions. Soonyoung's about to turn around and tell them they should probably get out there, expecting one of them to drunkenly call him a little bitch–

The front door slams open.

Minghao is the first to react, his laughter instantly dropping to the asphalt. “Um, what?” he whispers, frantic tone in his voice, jumping as the man raises his hands and points something at them.

Soonyoung thinks: _Shit, I'm really going to be killed. And I haven't even had my first legal drink yet._

“Hey!” He shouts, shining a torch (a torch – of course) in their faces, Soonyoung standing in the middle like a deer in headlights. They're all frozen to their spots. Junhui looks like he's reciting some sort of mantra to himself. _A prayer?_ That guy never fails to amaze Soonyoung. “Who is it?”

“Should we leggit?” Minghao whispers.

Mingyu seems to always be the one always most calm in situations like this, even if he stresses beforehand. Weird. “No point, he's already seen our faces. It's all down to Plan C now. Excuses, apologies. Rack your brains for something good, he looks _pissed off_.”

“What the _hell_ do you hooligans think you're doing?” The man, presumably Seokmin's dad, walks towards them, his fists clenched and forehead veins sticking out a whole centimetre. Soonyoung winces at the man's words, and realises that he's also the one holding the eggs, making him the prime suspect in this position. _Great._ The adrenaline from the dare and alcohol starts to lose its affect, replaced by humiliation filling his entire stomach.

“Remember what Mingyu said about overreaction?” Minghao lowers his voice even more. “Isn't _hooligans_ too aggressive? It's legitimately fucking raw eggs.”

“Excuse me, young man?” Seokmin's dad is now standing in front of them. He glowers at them, unamused look resting on his face. “I _said_ , can someone explain what's going on here? And _why_ it's going on here?”

“Uh,” Soonyoung says, and Junhui jabs him in the ribs. “ _Unf_.”

“Sir,” Mingyu chips in, fluttering his long eyelashes slightly, “we have a _reason_ to be doing this. Let us explain.”

“Oh, really?” He shines the torch in their faces again. “I recognise you boys. Don't you go to East River?” He pauses briefly. Minghao glances at Soonyoung. _Do something._ “Is this about my son? Reason better be fuckin' good.”

Soonyoung can't believe that Seokmin, who has birthmarks everywhere on his face and gets eye crinkles when he smiles, is related to a man who looks like he eats hamsters in his spare time; all furrowed eyebrows and broad shoulders. “Or I'll call my pals to come over and give me a hand. I could even get them to give you rides home. Wouldn't that be nice?”

“What does that even mean?” Minghao hisses to them.

Soonyoung shrugs. “Maybe he means his motorcycle gang friends.” Mingyu and Minghao shoot him one of those remember-to-not-voice-all-of-your-thoughts-out-loud looks back.

“You know that I can hear you,” Seokmin's dad (really? Seokmin's _dad?_ what the fuck?) says. He sighs when he sees their blank looks. “I'm a police officer.” They stare at him. “So you kids didn't know, huh.”

Soonyoung has always been convinced that he's the best at making the worst decisions, ever.

Egging a _cop's_ house at 2.11 a.m. must really take the cake of bad decision making, and the idea that popped into his head now makes the _perfect_ cherry on top of it. He promptly decides that whatever he does now can't fuck the whole situation up any more. Stepping forward slightly he says, “Sir, I'll explain.” Soonyoung's friends seem to _sense_ that he's about to do something stupid. They all turn towards him and glare at him.

“No, he won't,” Mingyu says.

Seokmin's dad looks between them.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath and jumps headfirst into the volcano. “Sir, Seokmin's my ex.” There it is – the trophy of idiotic decisions appearing in the palms of his hands. “Like, ex boyfriend. You see, he wronged me, and I'm naturally vindictive. So…” His voice trails off as he sees their expressions.

Seokmin's dad – Mr. Lee – looks about as shocked as Minghao, Junhui and Mingyu. They all stare at him. “W– _You_? Seokmin's ex? Ex boyfriend.” Mr. Lee's eyebrows are at practically at sky-level. “Hm?” He puts the torch down to fold his arms, and the world goes a little bit darker.

Mingyu mouths, _What the fuck?,_ Junhui shakes his head and Soonyoung sends a desperate look to them.

Minghao catches on the quickest. “It's true. They were together for, like, six months. Right Soonyoung?” He nods at Soonyoung to clarify himself. “ _Half a year_ , Mr. Lee. And your son just left him. No explanation. Nothing. Not even a text, or a Snap.” He coughs. “As in Snapchat. Nothing, Mr. Lee, _nothing_.”

Mr. Lee's confusion changes to suspicion. “So you're telling me that Seokmin eviscerated the fact that he was dating you–” he just sends this _look_ at Soonyoung, “–for half a year. And I'm meant to believe this.”

“Well, what else do you have to believe?” Mingyu asks. He tries for another flutter of the eyes.

Mr. Lee turns to Soonyoung. “Why didn't you talk to him in school?”

“No time?” It comes out sounding more like a question than an answer.

Soonyoung closes his eyes and wills for this to be over, and when he opens them the most bizarre thing happens. A broad leer spreads on Mr. Lee's face, making Soonyoung flinch slightly. “Why don't we ask him?”

Soonyoung knows the answer, but he says, “Uh, ask whom, exactly?” He shuffles on the pavement.

“Isn't it obvious?” Mr. Lee waves his hand at the house behind him. “Seokmin.”

Junhui looks up with confidence. “Sure.” Everyone turns to him.

Mr. Lee scans their faces whilst picking up the torch again. “Okay, sure, sure. I'll be back. But if you even _try_ to get out of here…” He mimics slitting open his own throat with his finger. Then he walks back through the front door.

For a full minute, Soonyoung, Minghao, Junhui and Mingyu watch the house's darkness in silence until the room (the window which wasn't egged) on the second floor's light is turned on and they're shocked out of their trance, quickly brought back to earth and back to the awareness of what's happening.

“We're _seriously_ doomed,” Mingyu says. “Soonyoung, you owe us all a million won. Preferably in cash. PayPal works.”

Minghao sighs. “And roses. And chocolate.”

“Yeah. _Godiva_ chocolate. Not corner store chocolate.”

“He'll catch on,” Soonyoung says. Even though he's trying to convince himself this he hardly believes his own words. A single thought niggling at the back of his mind telling him how Seokmin will be in a fit of rage, or shocked into not playing along with the story, at seeing Soonyoung and his friends standing on his front porch. “Even though he's a jock, he's not _thick_.”

“He's a swimmer,” Mingyu says, taking his hands out of his pockets to resume biting his nails.

“So?”

“What d'you mean _'so'_? Everyone knows swimmers are scientifically proven stupider.”

“'Scientifically'?” Minghao snickers. “Where did you read this, _9gag_?”

“No, seriously.” Mingyu widens his eyes in that way people do when they're trying to persuade someone else to believe them. “Since they lose so many brain cells so often 'cause of the impact from diving into water.”

Junhui says, “Bullshit.” at the same time as Minghao says, “You're meant to be the smart one out of us?”

Soonyoung laughs despite the situation. “Sounds like an urban myth, Gyu.”

Mingyu folds his arms. “Your love life is an urban myth,” he mutters.

The front door slams open.

It's just as startling as it was the first time.

Seokmin walks out with his dad in tow. He's clad in striped pyjamas and his hair is slightly tousled – seeing as he was awoken only moments before. He's taller than his father, but has a skinnier frame and looks more perplexed than irritated. Soonyoung has to squint to see properly and takes in the sight of Seokmin (Lee Seokmin!) with quandary on his face and obvious bags under his eyes and there's this kind of _human_ way that he's stretching his arms and awkwardly shuffling forward in slippers. Seokmin meets Soonyoung's gaze, and then something sparks inside of him. A flare erupts in his lungs.

Here's the second, most annoying thing about Seokmin: Soonyoung wishes he would do something that would give Soonyoung an excuse to _actually_ hate him. All he's done so far is stand there and _watch_ as his friends break out fights with Soonyoung's group, smile with fucking eye crinkles _,_ take the last cream cheese bagel in the cafeteria and take Soonyoung's role as one of the three wise men in their primary school nativity play (he could apparently pronounce 'frankincense' better, and Soonyoung was switched to saying 'gold' instead, those two syllables less being something he'll stay bitter over forever).

Seokmin says, “ _Kwon Soonyoung?_ What's this about?” He rubs his eyes, as if not believing the sight. He looks to his dad. Then back at them. Then gestures wildly at Soonyoung and his friends. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You tell me,” Mr. Lee says.

And Soonyoung says, “I'm taking revenge.”

And Minghao says under his breath, “Hollywood, here he comes.”

And Seokmin says, “ _Revenge?_ For what, exactly?”

And Minghao says, “You're speaking to your spiteful ex-boyfriend, Seokmin.” He does this thing where he pleads Seokmin with his eyes.

And the egg in Soonyoung's hand feels huge. “Yeah, I've come to take, um, revenge for what you did. Which is what I'm doing, with the eggs.” He stops. He decides to add some extra dramatic spice to his lines. “We were together for _six_ months, and– and– and you left me. You left me in the dust, Seokmin.” _Stammering and repetition for the full effect._

Mingyu shoots him a look of disbelief at his melodramatic parlance, then turns to Seokmin to give him a pointed glance. “You better apologise or explain _everything_ , Lee.”

Minghao coughs. “Exactly. Apologise.”

Mr. Lee watches the discussion unveil with folded arms and a hint of an entertained facial expression. “Well, Seokmin? Have anything to add?”

Seokmin looks between his dad and Soonyoung, sighing loudly. Gritting his teeth, he says, “I'm sorry, Soonyoung. For what I did.” There it is again – the embarrassment residing snugly within Soonyoung. Thank _fuck_ that he has enough alcohol in his system to not care about it too much. “Let's– We can have a _talk_ about this another time. Please don't fu– _freaking_ egg my house. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry about that, too,” Soonyoung says, and runs a hand through his hair. “You can like, go back to sleep now. Sorry, Mr. Lee.”

“Wow,” Mingyu mutters, “ _O Romeo O Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?_ ” Soonyoung kicks his shin without breaking eye contact with Seokmin. Mr. Lee doesn't seem to even half-believe their story, but looks too tired to argue with stubborn teenagers at half past 2 in the morning any longer. He sighs.

“Okay, kids,” he starts, “fun's over. Go back to your own homes and get some sleep.” He frowns. “And you better be goddamn thankful I didn't call your damn parents or report you for vandalism.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Seokmin says, rolling his eyes.

Soonyoung needs to get the fuck away from there. “Yes, sir,” he says and mock-salutes in Seokmin's direction.

As they're walking back to Mingyu's house, Junhui says, “Soonyoung, you're an idiot.”

“You guys need to stop me from doing stupid things and saying stupid things.” Soonyoung jabs Junhui's chest. “I blame _you_ for the dare.” He takes his finger up and points at them accusingly. “All of you tossers.”

“It was funny, though.” Minghao laughs.

“Fuck you,” Soonyoung says. “What's going to happen at school on Monday? Seokmin said he's going to have a 'talk' with me. Will everyone know I faked being _his_ _ex_? Trust someone at East River to find out about it, fucking high schoolers are better at finding information than the FBI.”

“Hey,” Mingyu says. “You're not allowed to be the worried one. That's _my_ job.”

Junhui smiles. “It _was_ fun. In hindsight. When Soonyoung thought he saved the day by making up the most bullshit story.”

Soonyoung starts to protest, but drops it.

When Minghao and Junhui agree on something? No way on earth they can be stopped.

 

 

The following school day is more uneventful than Soonyoung expected.

Not that he thought Seokmin would run up to him by his locker and body slam him into it in lieu of a morning greeting, or that he'd get Choi Seungcheol to beat the shit out of him before class started, but a part of him did expect _something_ to happen.

His friends don't cease to take the piss out of him for this.

“Aw, does it hurt widdle Soonyoung that Seokmin's not giving him enough attention?” Minghao jokes during lunch. Soonyoung throws a plastic fork at him. “Hey, you prick!”

“Oh, I'm the prick?” Soonyoung glares at him.

“Excuse me? Ms. Stevens and her anti-bullying campaign will hear about this,” Mingyu says, taking a bite of his cheese sandwich. His eyes widen after a quick scan of the room, and he lowers his voice to just above a whisper, “Jun, your 3 o'clock.”

Junhui thinks for a moment. He looks up and fixes his gaze on Wonwoo discreetly.

Jeon Wonwoo. Senior. Cello player. Mingyu's string orchestra friend. As of a few months ago at a popular, rich junior's birthday party, the love of Junhui's life (or so he claims).

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Junhui says. “How's my hair?”

“Greasy,” Minghao says.

“Disgusting,” Soonyoung says.

“Get a haircut,” Mingyu says. “And shave.”

“Fuck you guys,” Junhui says.

“Hi, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says. He smiles politely and nods at Junhui, Minghao and Soonyoung. The thing about Wonwoo is that he's one of those people who owns cacti and studies at the library and wears cardigans and even though it's weird and they're in high school which means anyone slightly different is picked on, no one ever picks on Wonwoo since he's nice to everyone. “Can I sit here?” He's almost _too_ nice. The thing about people like Wonwoo is that Soonyoung always suspects they're hiding a deep, dark secret. Junhui's convinced Wonwoo's merely a kind person ( _“Oh, shut up, Soonyoung, just 'cause not everyone's a wanker like you doesn't mean that everyone–”_ ).

“'Course,” Mingyu says, masking his shock well, and moves his bag so Wonwoo can sit down. His smile doesn't leave his face the entire 20 minutes they're sat there. _Suspicious._

Thus – much to Soonyoung's subconscious disappointment – nothing unusual happens in that day apart from Wonwoo deciding to join them at their usual table in the cafeteria. He's seen Seokmin around school, but he hasn't even _acknowledged_ Soonyoung's existence. Even in their only class together, English literature. Which is hardly surprising. It's not as if they usually greet each other in class or discuss Dickens together in the corridor before Mrs. Carter starts the lesson.

Yet he can't seem to get it off his mind all day. That's what he does best – thinking.

Nothing unusual happens.

Until after last period.

Soonyoung is the first person to step out of the classroom and away from his worst subject: chemistry. Taking it was a mistake and another bad decision he made and he's always extremely thankful when those torturous two hours are over which means it's time for after-school band practice. He walks away from consecutive Es and confusion and misery with his head high and skip in his step, and he swears the sun is shining when he turns into the corridor leading to room 305–

Suddenly, he's being grabbed by the arm and pulled around a sharp corner, the one leading down to the school gym. “ _Ow–_ what the hell?” Soonyoung says, mostly to himself. As a reflex, he starts to lift his leg up to kick this attacker between the legs. The person protests with a grunt and eases their grip.

“Sorry, sorry,” the person huffs – a guy? – and Soonyoung looks up and his brain matches that sonorous voice with the face looking down at him. _Seokmin?_

Soonyoung blinks and says, “Um?”

They stare at each other in silence.

Seokmin's wearing tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt with a towel draped around his neck, presumably on his way to swimming. _How'd he change so quickly? Did he skip class?_ Soonyoung can't help but stare at his physique; wide shoulders yet skinny arms and legs. “Sorry,” he says again. “If I hurt you. I didn't mean to.”

“I'm fine.”

Another silence.

Soonyoung thinks about how this is possibly the most awkward moment in his life. His mind is churning with questions, _What is Seokmin doing here? Tracksuit bottoms instead of shorts in August? Is he seriously about to beat Soonyoung up? How are bridges built?_

“So, is this that, uh, 'talk' you were on about?” he manages, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. There's this kind of weird feeling in his stomach. He's never been in a situation like this. He reckons it's one of the only times he's ever been alone with Seokmin. Weird, weird, weird.

“Yeah, I guess,” Seokmin says.

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “Was there anything you wanted to say?”

Seokmin inhales and exhales and rakes his hand through his hair. “Listen, I don't know why you did what you did, but now my dad's asking me loads of questions about you and– okay, you try having _that_ 'talk' with your single police officer father, okay? Not a comfortable moment.” Soonyoung's finding it hard to breathe. “And I don't really know what to do next. Why am I here? Hell, I don't know, it would've felt wrong to drop the whole subject. Should I be mad at you? Probably.”

Soonyoung doesn't know what to with his hands; where to put them or how to use them. He shoves them into his pockets. “It was a dare.”

“What?”

“It was a dare. The reason I egged your house.”

“A dare,” Seokmin repeats, and Soonyoung realises what an idiot he sounds like. “Okay, it was a dare. To egg my house. Like ten year olds. Okay.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says. “Stupid and immature, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Seokmin says. “I mean, should I tell my father that it was a dare, or should I just build more and more layers of lies on the VES? There's such a bizarre mood at home now.”

“The VES?”

“Vindictive-ex-story.” Seokmin smiles. As if it was obvious. Soonyoung's eye twitches.

“Right,” he says. “Well, it's your call.” Almost adding an apology for the trouble caused, he decides against it in the last second.

“If.” Seokmin stops, and thinks to himself for a second. “Let's say, if I were to spin even further on the VES, would you do me a _huge_ favour?”

It's a weird situation, it really is. They're having a conversation in a side corridor on their own. There's no one next to them shouting or a teacher trying to break up the fight. There's no crowd. There's no arguments and there's no empty threats and there's no loud voices. There's no Choi Seungcheol and Chwe Hansol; no Junhui rolling his eyes or Minghao calling people names. It's unnaturally serene.

And Seokmin and Soonyoung are alone. And Seokmin ( _The_ Lee Seokmin) is asking him for a favour. Which is really fucking weird.

“A favour?” Soonyoung asks. He plays with the earring on his left ear – nervous habit. “What kind of favour?”

“Okay.” Seokmin breathes in. He looks at Soonyoung, properly, and Soonyoung's mind tells him to be irritated. He thinks about it for a few heartbeats and then Seokmin continues, “Actually, never mind.” And now he won't meet Soonyoung's gaze.

The whole conversation is what Minghao calls a _Hang On, It Gets Stranger by the Second_ moment.

“Never mind?”

“Forget it.” Seokmin leans away from the wall. “It doesn't matter.”

Soonyoung _is_ irritated. Trying to keep a snappy tone away from his voice he says, “Okay, then, whatever. I'm sorry for egging your house and burdening you with whatever problems you may have gotten. It was just a dare. Sorry.” He looks down to the floor. “I was drunk and I wasn't thinking. Can I go to band practice now?”

Seokmin stares at him. “O– um, okay.” He's probably never had anyone leave him mid-conversation. Oh, the privileges of being popular. “Yeah, it's fine. I just didn't know what to do, or what you thought was best– I– don't know.” _Stammering?_ “Fine. Maybe this was unnecessary. You were drunk, and not thinking. After all.”

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. “Maybe it was.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Seokmin says, folding his arms.

“Well, thanks,” Soonyoung says. “See you around.”

_Or not._

He turns on his heel and walks around the corner and into the main corridor and room 305 without looking back once.

 

 

When Soonyoung picks up his saxophone, it's like the entire world falls away. It's just him, the notes and the music. It feels like he's holding his entire destiny and future and even the whole universe in his instrument. He's played it since he was ten, trying both tenor and bass on the way, but always going back to his alto sax eventually. He breathes music – his heart pumps to whatever rhythm his hands are playing. Wherever he goes and whatever he does, the music is always there. His sax is always there for him, even when he can't find the right words to say or perhaps did something really fucking stupid; it'll never judge him like human beings do.

That being said, even if the entire world does fall away, it's hard to stay focused practising at home when his phone keeps buzzing every _goddamn_ second. Soonyoung sighs, already having guessed who it is, and continues going over his part in _My Funny Valentine_ for a few minutes, until he really starts getting pissed off and goes to put his phone on silent or check what Minghao's revelation of the day is.

_hao: OMG_

_hao: guys_

_hao: the sickest thing just happened_

_gyu: here we go again_

_hao: rude_

_gyu: what is it_

_hao: i had a full length conversation with JWW after today's practice_

_gyu: JWW????_

_gyu: ??? hello_

_hao: jeon wonwoo dumbass_

_hao: im speaking in riddles cause the government could easily track my phone and check what things im writing_

_gyu: genuinely don't think they'd be interested in hearing about some greasy teen's life_

_hao: that's what they WANT you to think_

_jun: Tell me more about_ _Wonwoo_

_hao: oh so NOW you're interested..._

_jun: No..._

_gyu: ..._

_hao: ..._

_hao: we just had a little chat outside, is all_

_hao: we were both waiting to take the same bus_

_gyu: he's a nice guy_

_jun: Yeah_

Soonyoung thinks of something as he scrolls through the conversation.

_hao: ugh, soonyoung's typing, beware_

_Me: did i mention that seokmin had that “talk” w/ me today_

_hao: NO??????!!_

_Me: must've slipped my mind_

_gyu: how could it “slip your mind”_

_hao: you had like 3 opportunities to tell me in band today!!_

_hao: AND after_

_jun: And me, too._

Minghao, being the person he is, announces that it's time for them to have a Houseparty group video chat 'right this instant', telling everyone to join his room.

“This is blurry as fuck,” Soonyoung says, squinting to see everyone's faces properly. Junhui looks like he's ready to go to sleep, all tucked up in bed, Mingyu's sitting with his viola in his knee and Minghao's eating cup ramen. “Why are you so dramatic, Hao?”

Minghao slurps his noodles. “Tell us what happened.”

Soonyoung adjusts his phone so he can see more clearly. “I have to practise.” He holds up his sax as proof.

“Me too,” says Mingyu.

“I'm tired,” says Junhui.

“It's eight p.m.,” says Minghao. He clasps his hands together, which is never a good sign. It means that Minghao has a topic to discuss and he won't drop it no matter the circumstances. “Go on, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung sighs and recaps what happened before practice, which also explains the reason he was late. “There you go,” he says.

Mingyu raises a single eyebrow. “Oh. And you just really walked away.”

“Yeah. Just like that.” Soonyoung holds up both his index fingers on each hand. “It was by that side corridor in the middle of everything. I walked in this direction to 305, and he stormed off that way to the gym, I guess.” He demonstrates with his fingers in the air.

“Hm,” Minghao says, and strokes a non-existent beard. “Interesting, interesting.” He slides another secretive look at Mingyu, smiling to himself.

Soonyoung narrows his eyes. “What's up with that?”

“With what?” Mingyu asks.

“Those looks,” Soonyoung says. “You and Hao. Sharing these _looks_. Like you know something that I don't, or something.”

Minghao shrugs. “Dunno what you're on about. Where did Jun go, anyway? His screen's been black for like, half an hour.”

Xu Minghao is one of those people who have perfectly mastered the art of stealthily changing the subject. So Soonyoung drops it.

“I think he fell asleep,” Mingyu says.

And that's that.

 

 

Wonwoo joining them at their table at lunch becomes a regular thing.

Pros: Junhui talking more.

“Guys,” Junhui says. “Do seahorses count as fish or like, animals?”

Cons: Junhui talking more.

Wonwoo snorts, whereas Mingyu, Minghao and Soonyoung glare at him.

“Don't encourage him, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says, stabbing his apple juice carton. It's been two weeks since he had the 'talk' with Seokmin, and they've been ignoring each other more radically than usual. In English literature, Seokmin doesn't even do as much as breathe in Soonyoung's direction; sitting at the complete opposite end of the classroom. This should please Soonyoung. For some reason, it annoys him even more. Which goes on to annoy him even more. One could say it's an evil circle.

“No, I'm dead serious,” Junhui says.

“Fishes are animals, too,” Wonwoo says, smiling at Junhui. Soonyoung looks between the two of them. There's the intelligent,  _ever-sweet_ Wonwoo, whose parents are catholic and he's probably never cursed in his entire life. And then there's Wen Junhui.

“Opposites attract,” Soonyoung mutters, making Minghao giggle.

Junhui looks at him. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing,” Minghao says. “Hey, by the way, Wonwoo, have you ever been to a party?” He smiles in this diabolical way.

Soonyoung catches on. “If you haven't, you're in for luck. Do you know Hong Jisoo?” Wonwoo nods. _Everyone_ knows who Hong Jisoo is. “Yeah. Thought so. He's hosting one on Friday night, and, as you've probably heard, he has the craziest parties _ever_. He has this like, huge house–” he stretches his arms out sideways to indicate this, “–and even though no one really knows him practically everyone in school goes to them.”

“We're all planning on going together,” Minghao says. “You should come.”

Wonwoo has stars in his eyes. “Really? Um, I think I'd have to ask my parents first, but maybe.”

“Sweet, sweet, innocent Wonwoo.” Soonyoung shakes his head. “How'd you ever start hanging out with this stoner here?” He gestures at Junhui.

“Excuse you,” Junhui says, huffing. “I'm the best role model there is.”

“Says the dude who did body shots off some chick at Jisoo's last party,” Soonyoung says. He finishes the last bit of his apple juice, then throws the carton at the bin a few metres away. He misses. “When was that? June? Anyway, Wonwoo, you should come. Seriously.”

Wonwoo says, “What time does it start?”

Later that day, Minghao slips a note to Soonyoung during band. Minghao plays the trumpet and Junhui the oboe, meaning that they're mostly close to each other in practice. Minghao interacts with everyone there. Junhui only talks to Soonyoung, Minghao, the other oboists and the flautists. That's just the type of people they are.

On a ripped out corner from an old piece of sheet music reads, _i think ur right about wonwoo._

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows at Minghao. He checks his watch – three minutes left of their break – and scribbles back, _That he's hiding a secret?_

Minghao nods and writes, as straight-forward as ever, _don't you get those gay vibes from him_

Soonyoung says, “We could just talk.”

Minghao says, “The government is listening to every single word we say.”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes and writes, _Well, Duh_

_why duh?_

_Gays always stick together, we're like, herd animals, we travel in packs_

Minghao snorts and Soonyoung can't be bothered to write anymore so he says, “Should we add him to our groupchat?”

“Who?” Minghao says. “Wonwoo?”

“Why not?” Soonyoung shrugs. “He's basically a part of our herd now.”

“I don't know,” Minghao says. “We should ask Junhui and Mingyu first. We can't just 'let him in'–” he air-quotes, “–just like that, you know?”

“What, fucktard, is there some type of ceremony you have to perform to get into our group?” Soonyoung says, and pokes Minghao in the stomach. “Host a sleepover? Drink alcohol? Sacrifice a straight guy and drink his blood?”

Minghao ignores him with a roll of the eyes. Soonyoung continues, “I mean – Junhui'll definitely be over the moon.” They both turn to look at Junhui, sitting there conversing with a sophomore oboist.

Minghao's just about to say something when Mr. Zhang starts shushing them, flipping through his thick pile of sheet music. “Break's over, everyone. Turn to page 4, let's run through _Sing Sing Sing_ again. _Da capo, tutti.”_

Soonyoung picks up his saxophone, and finds himself getting lost in the music.

He lets himself.

  

 

 _[_ You _added_ wonwoo _to Cocksuckerz101]_

_gyu: let this be the moment we finally realise it's time to change the gcs name_

_hao: never!!!!_

_wonwoo: Hi:)_

_hao: wonwoo!!!_

_Me: wonwoo what's your sickest nickname_

_wonwoo: Nickname?_

_Me: for your contact name on my phone_

_wonwoo: Oh?_

_wonwoo: Hm_

_wonwoo: I don't think I have one_

_Me: then it doesn't matter_

_hao: what about JWW_

_Me: that's just his initials_

_hao: sounds cool tho_

_hao: better than just “wonwoo”_

_Me: true, true_

_jun: Wonwoo, are you going to the party 2morrow_

_jww: Yes!!_

_Me: jww looks to similar to jun:/ im changing it back_

_gyu: AYE we got him_

_gyu: btw my parents are out of town so everyone's free to crash @ my house after_

_Me: good i'll tell mi madre_

_wonwoo: I think I'll just go home afterwards. Thanks for the offer:)_

_hao: aw but wheres the fun in that_

_Me: yeah c'mon we can't have a sleepover without THE jeon_ _wonwoo_

_wonwoo: Hahah_

_wonwoo: Then sure, I'll come_

_wonwoo: Where do you live?_

 

 

Soonyoung stares at himself in the mirror.

He stares at his tight jeans, his eyeliner, his remotely shimmery eyelids, his earrings. He wonders if he went too far. Maybe it's too much.

“Soonyoung?” his mother calls up the stairs. He hears her footsteps walking down the corridor and he waits for the knock on the door before she enters without asking and suddenly she's knocking, then barging into the room one second later. “Soonyoung, did say you were staying at the Kims tonight?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“And that's okay with them? With Mingyu's parents?”

“Yeah, he already asked.”

“Are you sure? Should I call them and ask?”

Here's the thing about Soonyoung's mother: she's not strict. She's just overprotective, mostly (and strict when it's needed, yes). Whereas his father is the complete opposite – calm yet vigilant, letting Soonyoung do pretty much whatever he pleases. Not really caring about what he does. Or about him. Which is why his mother _has_ to be the protective one (and also the reason why they don't live in the same house anymore). Without her, Soonyoung would probably have had far more near death experiences than he's already collected in his 17 years of living.

“No, Mum,” he says.

“And they'll be at home?” she asks.

“Yes,” Soonyoung lies.

She flattens out the collar on his shirt. “And you said it's just a little party?”

“ _Yes_ , Mum.” Another lie. “It's just gonna be me and the boys. And maybe a few more friends.”

_And by a 'few more friends', I mean half of East River._

She studies his face. Mothers always know when you're lying, but they sometimes decide to let it slip. “Well, okay.” She pauses. Her face softens. “You look nice, Soonyoung, darling.”

He smiles at her. “Thanks.”

“What time were you meeting Minghao?”

Soonyoung checks the time. “Uh, nine-thirty. So in like, two minutes. I should get going,” he says, shoving his phone into his pocket.

Soonyoung's mother leans over and kisses him on the forehead. “Call if you need anything.”

Minghao, being Minghao, pulls up at quarter to ten, meaning that they arrive at Jisoo's house after ten. Soonyoung reckons you'd be able to see _and_ hear his house from Mars. The loud, thumping music shakes the ground beneath their feet, and there's the typical sight of teenagers (and people in their early 20s) loitering around on either the gigantic front lawn or down the street, people chatting to each other or making out on the lawn or patio. And they haven't even gotten inside yet.

This is how all of Jisoo's parties are. How they've always been. Yet the sheer size of Hong Jisoo's house and how there's a whole path off the main road leading up to it and the garden and fucking _pool_ and the cacophony of voices from the crowds of people mixed with the music will never cease to impress Soonyoung. Minghao, on the other hand, parks the car next to other dozens there and walks through the front door like he owns the place.

The first recognisable face they spot is Mingyu's. “ _Haohao_ ,” he says, his face lighting up at the sight of Minghao. He looks drunk already. “You made it!” Soonyoung reckons it's unusual for Mingyu to be the first one to have a drink out of them, and assumes Junhui is off lurking in a corner with a bottle of something, somewhere.

“Well, we did have plans.” Minghao shoots him a grin. Mingyu stumbles forward as a girl tries to squeeze her way between them. “We _are_ staying at your house, remember?”

“Yeah, of course, dude,” Mingyu says. “Hey, Soonyoung!” He has to shout to be heard over the music.

“Now you realise I'm here?” Soonyoung rolls his eyes.

Mingyu doesn't seem to notice he even spoke. “Guys, go to the kitchen and try some of the drink mixes they put out. It's like, magical, or something. It's like, eureka.”

Maybe Soonyoung's an awful friend for finding this funny. Probably. “Eureka?”

“No, not eureka,” Mingyu says. “Not eureka. It's like, _euphoria_.”

Minghao laughs. “Gyu, where's Jun? And Wonwoo?”

“Oh, Jun?” Mingyu taps his chin. “I came here with him. And Wonwoo.”

Soonyoung and Minghao share a look. One of those Parent-Looks. A silent understanding. A silent conversation. _It's funny when you're so close to someone that you can communicate without even uttering a single word._ “Yes, I know,” Minghao says, carefully. “Where are they now?” That's one of the things Soonyoung loves about Minghao – he understands. He rarely questions things. He just gets it.

“Jun and Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks.

“Yeah.”

“Last I saw them was at the kitchen. Or was it the second living room? Did you know there's _two_ living rooms, Hao? This guy's like fuckin' rich, dead serious. A millionaire, or something.” He giggles. Honestly, officer. He _giggles._

“I'll go find them, you stay with him,” Soonyoung says. Minghao nods, and successfully redirects Mingyu to the less-crowded corridor before he can bump into another person.

Soonyoung has to wander for a while until he finds the kitchen.

Never underestimate the difficulty of navigating through a mansion like Jisoo's. He gets lost a few times, too, and having to force himself through thick, tight clusters of people and the asphyxiating amount of smoke in the air doesn't make the task easier.

Neither Wonwoo nor Junhui are in the kitchen.

Soonyoung sighs, and grabs a cup of one of the mixes Mingyu mentions. The past weeks have been tough – the Egg Incident, the Lee Seokmin Incident, Mr. Zhang already pressuring him about his sax solos for the end of term Christmas concert and he repeats to himself, _I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this,_ like a mantra.

Since Minghao and Mingyu are off on their own somewhere, and Wonwoo and Junhui are nowhere to be found, Soonyoung decides to stay in the kitchen. He makes small-talk with the only person he recognises there – Amanda? Amara? – from band. After his fifth cup, his throat is burning and his mind is somewhat hazier but he can still fully comprehend the conversation they're having, which is always a good sign.

He's on his eighth when Band-Girl has almost finished telling him her entire life story.

Chwe Hansol and Choi Seungcheol enter the room.

A few moments pass. Then a, “Hey, Kwon!” Hansol, the younger of the duo, calls. Taunts him. “How's my brother doing?”

Soonyoung ignores him. Focuses on Band-Girl. “Sorry, what was your name, again?”

“Amari,” she says.

“Right, that was it.”

She smiles, and Soonyoung thinks: _Wow. Her teeth are so bright._

“All alone, Kwon?” Seungcheol leans over Soonyoung to pour himself some liqueur. His elbow hits Soonyoung on the head. “Where are the rest of the fags, hm?”

“I already have great company, thank you,” Soonyoung says. He gestures towards Amari.

Seungcheol continues, “Saw the Chinese homos downstairs, did they ditch you for their boyfriends?” Hansol joins him by the side and pinches Soonyoung's cheek.

Soonyoung is quiet.

There is a storm is brewing in his head.

“Who's this?” Seungcheol asks, looking at Amari. “Hi, sweetheart, is he bothering you?” He smirks at her, and her face radiates _fear._ For Soonyoung and his friends, being picked on is nothing new. But for Seungcheol to target people he doesn't even know just to provoke Soonyoung? He's really hit rock bottom.

Soonyoung looks at Amari and downs the last of his eighth cup. And he's never been one for smart ideas.

He stands up, and shoves Seungcheol in the chest.

Maybe the alcohol gave him some more confidence.

Maybe he gave himself more confidence.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem?” Soonyoung snarls. “She didn't even do anything, dickhead.” Both Seungcheol and Hansol look shocked for a few seconds, and Soonyoung feels the power in his body rise. It's an incredible feeling – everyone in the kitchen suddenly has their eyes on him, wondering what he'll do next. How he'll react. What he'll say.

So he gives them what they want. He says, “Seriously, you're so obsessed with calling everyone gay I'm starting to think something else is going on here.” His words are a tad bit slurred, he realises.

People laugh. Seungcheol's eyes are filled with rage, and he reeks of cigarette smoke, and it _really_ is the living stereotype. Hansol steps forward, opening his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol stops him by placing his arm in front of his chest.

“Kwon, why the fuck are you acting tougher than you are?” he asks.

“Why are you acting _straighter_ than you are?” Soonyoung is mocking him, and Seungcheol brings his arm back and Soonyoung expects what's about to happen, but it still shocks him when Seungcheol's fist connects with his cheek and he's being punched _right in the fucking face_. And he can hear his nose crack, and can see the blood gushing, and can feel the pain ripping through his face and entire body, and can see, _hear_ people reacting to this. Loudly.

Instead of doing something to help, he realises that they're shouting, _Fight! Fight! Fight!_

Soonyoung thinks, _Fuck high school. Fuck high schoolers, too._

And he punches Seungcheol in the gut. And Seungcheol returns the favour.

As he spits out a “ _fuck you_ ”, he can taste the blood in his mouth.

Everyone around him is _loud_. His head hurts, shit, his entire being hurts, and he has to stand back to steady himself on something – _is that the countertop?_ He wonders why Seungcheol hasn't beat him all the way back to his own house yet.

Soonyoung opens his eyes, which takes great effort, and sees that all hell has broken loose in Hong Jisoo's kitchen. He looks at the clock on the wall. It's past midnight. _Has that long gone since I saw Mingyu downstairs?_

It feels like the world is in slow-motion.

In this moment, he scans the room, and everything is blurry. Apart from one person.

One person sticks out.

One person shouting, holding the fuzzy area which is Choi Seungcheol back.

Soonyoung thinks – in this very exact moment – that Lee Seokmin looks kind of magical. His face is glowing in the dimmed lights. His eyes are shining, but they're not lit up in the way they usually are. They look like astrophyllite – a rare, opaque potassium iron titanium silicate mineral, named after the Greek words for star and leaf.

Soonyoung's mind tells him that he has never seen someone more beautiful.

_Star leaf._

Maybe this is the feeling that most parents have when they see their newborn child; covered in vernix caseosa and screaming its lungs out, yet they still fawn over how _gorgeous_ it is.

Seokmin, with his radiant skin, is yelling at Seungcheol, _“What the fuck were you thinking? His face is a fucking_ mess _, you can't afford to do things like this, Seungcheol, fuck.”_ Another glance to the left and he's met with the shocked faces of his best friends. Oh, shit. _No._ Minghao covering his mouth, Wonwoo calling to no one in particular for help, Junhui in an absolute state of daze. Mingyu biting his nails but remaining the most calm out of all of them – only trying to get past the crowd and reach him.

Soonyoung takes in the distress on their faces. The distress _he_ caused. Shit, shit, shit. He takes a step forward to talk to them, explain what happened, when he realises that something's holding him back. Amari has her arms around his body, hugging him tightly to her chest. He hadn't even realised she was there. He feels bad.

Soonyoung looks back to Minghao, and sees that he's turned his body and is shouting at Seokmin. Every other noise around them seems to go impeccably quiet. _“What the hell happened to him? What did you do? What did he do? What the fuck's wrong with you guys?”_

He redirects his full attention to Minghao and silently tells him, _It wasn't him. It wasn't him,_ but Minghao's face is already blazing with fury.

He thinks about how how thirsty he is.

Then he blacks out.

 

 

Soonyoung wakes up on the sofa in Mingyu's living room.

How he knows that it's the sofa in Mingyu's living room? He's slept on it thousands of times. Probably more times there than times he's slept at his dad's house.

Mingyu's house is the biggest out of all of theirs and that's where they mostly have their sleepovers, and probably always will. Unless Wonwoo's house turns out to even bigger. And Mingyu's parents are nearly always travelling for work which means that they have a two-floor house for themselves.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Minghao, sitting next to him on the sofa with his legs crossed, says. “He's not dead. Rejoice.”

Soonyoung sits up and coughs. “I'm thirsty.” He winces at the pain he's feeling – his face burning and his head thumping and his body feeling limp. “My head hurts. _Shit_. It _hurts_.”

Wonwoo says, “I'll get you a glass of water.”

Junhui says, “I'll get the Tylenol out.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Soonyoung, how much did you drink to fucking _start a fight_ with _Seokmin and Seungcheol_?”

Soonyoung sits up, and groans at the effort it takes. It feels as though his ribcage is in pieces. His chest feels ripped open. “No. No, it wasn't Seokmin.”

Minghao tuts. “That's what you're doing now, huh? Defending him?”

Soonyoung says, “It _wasn't him_. He was the one who _stopped_ Seungcheol from kicking me to another planet. And Amari.”

“Yeah, Amari,” Mingyu says. “I didn't even know who she was or how you know her, but she seemed worried. Lovely girl. She's in band, right?”

“Yeah. She plays the french horn, I think. She's nice,” Soonyoung says, remembering more and more things from last night's haze. “Mingyu, you were so pissed yesterday, it was hilarious.”

“Don't remind me,” Mingyu says, scrunching his face. “I'm having the Mother of All Hangovers right now.”

“Me, too,” Soonyoung says. “Must've been those mix things. I had like, ten glasses.” He pauses. “Or maybe it's not just a hangover. Maybe I had like, a minor concussion and my brain is completely shaken. It feels like it.”

Minghao sighs. “Soonyoung, you should see yourself now and you'd understand how worried we have been. Everyone has been.”

Soonyoung's eyes widen at the mention of 'everyone'. “You– you didn't tell my parents, right?”

“No,” Wonwoo says, walking back into the living room with Junhui, holding the glass of water and painkillers. Soonyoung takes them gratefully. “But I almost did.” He drinks the water in a way that's almost as if he hasn't had water in days. Drowns himself in it. “Then they immediately stopped me.”

“Hao practically threw himself on Wonwoo,” Mingyu says.

“Thanks,” Soonyoung says. “God, if Mum found out, I wouldn't live to be 18. _Honestly_.”

“We know, we know,” Junhui says. He stands up again. “I'll go make some Jasmine tea. Or Chrysanthemum. Or just normal bagged. Depending on the options.”

Mingyu stands up, too. “Tea's in the–”

“Second highest cabinet. Got it. Thanks.”

“You guys really make yourselves at home, don't you?” Mingyu mutters.

“Of course,” Minghao says, nodding. “Soonyoung, are you feeling better?”

Soonyoung's occupied with thinking about his Mum's reaction to his face, his own reaction to his face, people at school's reactions to his face, and, _school_ on Monday, Lee Seokmin in English lit., the teacher's reactions to his face– “Earth to Kwon Soonyoung? Hello?”

“Hm?”

“Are you feeling better?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. “No, not really.”

“That's fine,” Minghao says. He smiles a small smile. One of those smiles that are meant to go unnoticed.

But since Soonyoung's heart holds too much love for his best friends – his best friends, the types of people who think tea is the cure to any problem, who always defend him no matter what (even if they'd turn out to be in the wrong), who are there to clean up the blood he spills (whether it his or not), who stand next to him even when he has blemished skin and dry tearstained cheeks – he notices.

Soonyoung always notices. And he smiles back.

It's a magical moment, sitting there on Mingyu's sofa with the people we admires most in the universe surrounding him. No matter what could happen next, he feels extremely content.

The world is in his hands.

 

 

The world is not in his hands.

“Soonyoung and Seokmin,” says Mrs. Carter, and her words flip the world upside down. Tear every book in the classroom to the ground. The lamps crash down on to their heads; the moon spirals into the endless darkness of the universe.

Sadly, no one else notices.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Seokmin says, out loud, and the rest of the class look between each other with raised eyebrows or down at their desks.

Soonyoung has been having the worst day, ever. What seems to be the entire student body of East River has stared at him, whispered when he's walked past. The clueless, non-updated ones and the teachers have asked him what happened. He's been saying that he walked into a lamppost. The same story he forced Minghao, Junhui, Mingyu and Wonwoo to chip in on when he explained the fake situation to tell his mother. Seungcheol didn't show up at school. Hansol and Seokmin did, and Soonyoung has never seen anyone shoot eye daggers better than Hansol did. _If looks could kill._

And now, Mrs. Carter's fucking project where they have to choose a fucking classic from a list and fucking review it and write a fucking discussion essay and present it and this project is in fucking _pairs_ and she made the pairs based on alphabetical order and now the world is detonating and Seokmin is sighing loudly and Mrs. Carter is asking, “Is there a problem, Lee?”

“Nothing, Mrs. Carter,” Seokmin says.

Mrs. Carter keeps talking whilst handing out the list of classics they can choose from. The project needs to be finished before the end of term, the deadline is the 10th of December, that's when they'll start doing the presentations. And yes, everybody needs to review it and present it. And yes, Carina, you'll have to work outside of school as well. This is important material for your grade and future. Everyone is expected to do their best.

Her voice is a buzz to Soonyoung's ears. He's concentrating on staring down at his feet and willing his cheeks to stop burning.

After class ends, Soonyoung tries to get away as quickly as possible. English literature is the class before lunch and he now has things he _needs_ to say to his friends. And he needs moral support. And apple juice, to console him.

Unsurprisingly enough, the student athlete out of the two of them is quicker. “Hey, Soonyoung,” Seokmin says, and grabs him by the arm. “Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Can you stop touching me?” Soonyoung snaps. Seokmin lets go as fast as if Soonyoung's skin was a hot stove. They're quiet, and Seokmin looks guilty when he sees Soonyoung's face, purposefully not meeting his eyes and avoiding looking at his face, and Soonyoung doesn't want to talk to him and people are sending intrigued glances in their direction and he doesn't know what to add to the dead conversation so he says, “Don't talk to me.”

“Listen, I– I'm sorry.” Seokmin runs his hand through his hair. According to Soonyoung's observations so far, this is something he does often. “This isn't about _that_ whole mess. It's just– it's about the project.”

Soonyoung doesn't meet his eyes. He wants to say, “You want to ignore the elephant in my room? The elephant being my face which is completely fucked up, thanks to your friend. Seokmin, look at me! I'm 50 shades of purple, yellow and red, and the shitty little plaster on my nose isn't helping since it feels fucking dislocated! Are you just going to _ignore_ that your friend caused this?”

But he's not bitter at Seokmin. He says, “Fine.”

“I'm sorry,” Seokmin repeats.

Soonyoung sighs. “It's not your fault.” Since he's not a bitter, distasteful person who guilt trips people he hates, he adds lightly, “You tried to help.” He doesn't look up properly. He doesn't owe Seokmin _shit_ – not even eye contact.

Seokmin breathes in, and out, and in, and out. He looks like he doesn't know what to say, either. “Let's try and leave it behind us.”

Soonyoung thinks: _Rich for him to say._

He continues, “I don't think we should meet at my house. Since, well.” Is this Seokmin, in front of him, with an uneasy tone in his voice? _The_ Seokmin who murmured, _'You have got to be kidding me'_ when he was paired with Soonyoung only minutes before? “Dad still thinks you're my ex.”

“Oh, shit,” Soonyoung says. “I'd honestly forgotten about that. Right.”

“'S'okay,” Seokmin says. “We'll just meet at your house.”

Soonyoung twirls his earring. It's a cross one today. “My parents are divorced.”

“Okay.”

“I'm at Mum's house right now. But I'm at my dad's house one weekend every month.”

“I don't mind.”

“You don't think doing it the library would just be easier?”

“A library doesn't have free snacks.” He's grinning, now. Soonyoung thinks about how when he was completely shit-faced and had seen Seokmin as the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. _What was that all about?_

Soonyoung folds his arms. “Who says I have free snacks?”

“We'll see,” Seokmin says.

Soonyoung forces himself to not roll his eyes again.

“Can I have your number?” 

“Excuse me?”

Seokmin tilts his head. “Your phone number?

“No?”

“But, you need to text me the address.”

“I'll write it down for you.”

Seokmin studies his face. “Fair enough.”

“Oh, have you also heard about the fairy named 'Nuff'?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

If he doesn't get one of Soonyoung's simplest jokes, it'll just never work out between the two of them.

 

 

_Me: lee seokmin is @ my mf house_

_hao: now??_

_Me: ya_

_Me: he's been snooping around for ages_

_hao: LMFAO_

_hao: good luck man_

_gyu: good luck from me too_

_gyu: get some dick bro!!_

_jun: I third that_

_Me: i hate you ?? all??_

_wonwoo: Apart from me;)_

_Me: apart from wonwoo_

_Me: uuuuuugghhhh guyzzz_

_gyu: what_

_Me: he's just walking around in my kitchen like he owns the world_

_gyu: i recognise that_

_gyu: cough_

_gyu: minghao_

_hao: ?_

_gyu: whatever_

_Me: gtg seokmin wants to “start doing the project” UGHHHH_

_hao: send updates later_

_hao: we want the goss_

_wonwoo: Good luck, warrior! *salutes*_

Seokmin sips on instant coffee. “I think we should choose the _Iliad_.”

“Hm? The _Iliad_?” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It's– It's interesting,” he says. “About Achilles, and war, and the Greek gods and goddesses.” He sneaks a look at Soonyoung. “And Patroclus.” He's observing Soonyoung's reaction.

“I agree,” Soonyoung says, without missing a beat. “It's probably the most difficult out of the whole list. We'd definitely get extra cred for it – deciphering the endless hexameters and all that.”

“I've actually read up a little on Greek mythology,” Seokmin says. Soonyoung keeps underestimating his intellectual capacities, it seems. He thought he'd say he wanted them to choose like, _Dracula_. “It's interesting.”

Soonyoung decides to test him further. “I've read _Picture of Dorian Gray_ ,” he says. “It's really philosophical and confusing at times, but it's really good. If we try our best and write a good text with good reasonings, I think we'd do well.” He brings his cup of green tea to his mouth and blows gently. “We could do some research on Oscar Wilde, too, and make some connections to his life with the novel.”

“Sounds good to me,” Seokmin says, smiling. Drawing back after his overeager answer he adds, scratching his neck, “I should, uh, probably read it first.”

Soonyoung wills every muscle in his face to not smile. Because smiling hurts like a bitch when his face is the way it is. Because he'll never sink as low as to smile at Lee Seokmin. _Never._ “Haven't you read it before?”

“No,” Seokmin says. “I've read other things Wilde has written, though. Dad has this collection of Penguin Classics – short stories, kind of.”

“Hm.”

Seokmin smiles again, and Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows. “I love the way he writes.”

“Me too.”

“'We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars',” Seokmin says. They're quiet. “Are you even going to drink your tea?”

“I'm waiting until it's lukewarm so that I can drink it in big clunks instead.”

“Okay.”

_Me: people, seokmin isn't as straight as we think he is_

“Who are you texting?”

Here's a new thing Soonyoung has observed about Seokmin so far: he's nosy. He took good time looking around Soonyoung's room, studying his belongings, asking questions about his family, looking through the cabinet in the bathroom. “Just my mum,” Soonyoung lies, and wonders what Seokmin would think if he ever found out about _Cocksuckerz101_.

_gyu: but hes the walking DEFINITION of heterosexual_

_gyu: how many times has seungcheol called me faggyu_

_gyu: soonyoung how many times_

_jun: Right_

_gyu: you call me that too, jun_

_jun: Yeah but it's okay when I do it_

_gyu: …_

“Hello? Soonyoung?” Seokmin waves his hand in front of Soonyoung's face.

“Uh, what'd you say?”

_Me: he just quoted oscar wilde_

“When's your mother coming home?”

“Uh,” Soonyoung says. “Usually she gets home around seven, eight.”

It's 7.03. p.m. now, meaning that Seokmin has been there for over an hour. And all they've done is decided that Seokmin needs to read a book. “I guess I should be going, then.”

Soonyoung looks up from his phone. “It's okay. Drink your coffee first, damn.”

Seokmin leaves shortly after (and what a long, meaningful conversation they had!), waving up to Soonyoung from the pavement in front of the building. September has almost ended now – meaning that darker, colder times are coming. Soonyoung closes his room's window and turns the radiator up. Warmth is better for the saxophone's sound.

 

 

“Quoting Oscar Wilde doesn't mean you're gay,” Minghao says, stretching his feet out on Soonyoung's bed. The weekend has finally come. Soonyoung and Seokmin decided they'd only meet up after Seokmin had finished _The Picture of Dorian Gray,_ and Soonyoung also said that he'd reread it too, just to freshen up his memory of the book. He's easily recollecting most of the scenes in the novel, yet struggling to get through the book anyway. Minghao and Mingyu decided to show up at his house on this Saturday's early morning, since Wonwoo and Junhui are off doing something else together (a date, Mingyu reckons; Minghao placing his bet on a hookup). Now all they're doing is making themselves comfortable, pestering Soonyoung to give them a preview of his solos and speculating about Seokmin's sexual preferences.

“A little bit gay,” Soonyoung says.

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Just go ahead with the stereotypes, then.”

“Stereotypes exist for a reason,” Soonyoung says, “I mean, look at you, Gyu.”

“What? Just 'cause I like wearing nice clothes means I'm gay?” Mingyu's sitting on Soonyoung's windowsill. For whatever reason, that's something people like to do. Maybe because his room's minuscule and the only other spot would be on the floor. “Everyone should care about their appearance, and personal grooming.”

“But you _are_ gay, Mingyu,” Minghao says.

“I'm _bisexual_ ,” Mingyu says. “Straight guys care about the way they look, too.”

“Seokmin does, at least,” Soonyoung says. Minghao and Mingyu share a look. “What? He doesn't wear tracksuit bottoms everyday like half of our school's male population does.”

“But he does wear tracksuit bottoms,” Minghao says. “Quite often. They're _Adidas_ ones.”

“ _And_ jeans,” Soonyoung says.

“How did the conversation switch back to that guy? We don't care about your boyfriend, Soonyoung, we have more important topics to discuss,” Minghao says and puts his hands behind his heads on the pillow.

Soonyoung shoots him a glare. “He's not my bo–”

Mingyu asks, “How's the book you're reading?”

“Uh, fine,” Soonyoung says. “It's kind of hard to get through, though. Hard language.”

“Didn't you say you've already read it?”

“I have, and I remember most of it, but the words and way it's written are–”

Minghao interrupts them, “Wonwoo just texted saying that they're finished with lunch.” _There he is._ The master of changing subjects strikes again. “Should we go and meet them?”

Mingyu diverts his attention back to Minghao and shakes his head. “Nah, not if it's a date. A proper date shouldn't end after you've eaten. Dinner at a restaurant, brunch at a hotel, a café, chilli cheese tops at McDonalds. What _ever_. You take the person home after.”

“Well, aren't you the relationship guru?” Minghao says, smiling. He taps away at his phone, presumably to text Wonwoo back. “I'll tell them we're fine over here and that if they want to come over they can. Has Wonwoo even been around here yet?”

“Sure, just fucking invite them over to my house,” Soonyoung murmurs.

“'Course.” Mingyu grins.

“I'm hungry,” Soonyoung says.

Minghao says, “We truly care,” at the same time as Mingyu says, “Then eat, man, stop whining about it.”

“I'm just saying, we could've met them to get food,” Soonyoung says.

Minghao says, “They already _ate_ , Soonyoung, and if they're on a date like the relationship guru says, they'd want to be left alone. You're honestly clueless.”

And Mingyu says, “Go make yourself some ramen if you're hungry. If there's water left, can you make us some tea?”

What _lovely_ best friends he has.

Later that day, when Mingyu and Minghao have already left his house together to go get chilli cheese tops at McDonalds ( _“When Gyu mentioned them I suddenly starting craving them, okay?”_ ), he receives a text from an unknown number. Since the person has texted three times in a row, it intrigues him enough to put his sax down and reply.

A foolish, naïve mistake.

_Unknown Number: Hi_

_Unknown Number: Got your number from amari_

_Unknown Number: Amari in band_

_Me: who is this?_

_Unknown Number: Seokmin_

_Unknown Number: Lee Seokmin_

_Me: yeah i know who it is no need for a james bond moment_

_eggboy: Hhahah lol_

Soonyoung physically rolls his eyes.

_Me: um_

_Me: i can't remember giving amari my number?_

_Me: hers isn't on my phone either_

_eggboy: Maybe you were drunk haha_

_Me: maybe_

_eggboy: Anyway I finished the book today_

_Me: oh_

_Me: i haven't yet, just give me a little more time and i willve finished it_

_eggboy: It's ok no rush_

_Me: is that why you texted? and went out of your way to ask amari for my number on a weekend???_

_eggboy: Busted..._

_Me: how'd you find it, then, fess up lee_

_eggboy: You have it connected to your Facebook page, wasn't so difficult to find, Kwon_

_Me: imagine me rolling my eyes right now_

_Me: cause i am_

_eggboy: Whatever..._

_eggboy: I'm just trying to be a good project buddy..._

_Me: plz don't ever say those words again_

_eggboy: Okay PB;)_

_Me: bestill my beating heart_

_eggboy: Should I come over tomorrow?_

_Me: no_

_eggboy: >;(_

_eggboy: Fine, fair enough_

_eggboy: I thought our rivalry was over but fine_

Soonyoung glares at his phone, and decides to drop The Bomb. It's not really mean or distasteful. It's just facts.

_Me: your friend beat my face to hell and back_

_Me: and even though you can't see it my stomach is like black and blue as well_

There. He feels proud of himself. And also annoyed at himself for resorting to guilting someone.

_eggboy: I said fair enough?_

_Me: i was just kidding the first time lmao_

_eggboy: Kwon Soonyoung you confuse me_

_Me: i know_

_eggboy: ??_

_eggboy: Am I coming over tomorrow or not?_

_Me: you can come over_

_Me: between business hours 3pm and 7pm please_

_Me: i don't function properly before or after those times_

_eggboy: Sounds good to me_

_Me: and bring your own snacks_

_eggboy: Fine_

_Me: fine!!!_

_eggboy: Fine!!!!!!!_

_Me: FINE!!!!_

_eggboy: FINE!!!!!!!!!! See you tomorrow >:)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Me: FINE!!! see you!!!!!!!_

Soonyoung drops his phone onto his lap. _What have I gotten myself into?_

He wonders how will he get along with someone like Seokmin, who has ignored his existence since primary school and everyone at school loves, someone who wears Adidas and swims and lives in a nice house in a nice neighbourhood and probably has abs and, again, _why is his life such a fucking cliché_?

He picks up his saxophone. Adjusts the mouthpiece a few times until it sounds in tune. He places his fingers on keys. He improvises a repetitive melody and then spirals off into what would be a solo. Pretends he's on stage with a jazz band – all of them playing at their own will, everyone holding the same beat and melody until they choose not to, someone playing accompaniment notes on the piano, the bassist being the stableness to keep them on time, everyone being _alive_ and doing whatever they want and listening to each other and appreciating the music and appreciating they're art they're making. He closes his eyes.

When he has thoughts he doesn't like to think about, he pretends he's someone he's not. Someone he wants to be.

 

A new observation: Seokmin is a real talker when he wants to be.

On Sunday at 3 p.m., he walks into Soonyoung's room and chats about the book to him for an hour. They have a discussion on what the moral of the story is. They talk about the characters, the writing, the plot, the ending. Seokmin's eyes light up when Soonyoung engages in the conversation properly.

“You know, I can never talk about things like this with Seungcheol and Hansol,” Seomin says. “They don't read. Like, ever.”

“Big surprise,” Soonyoung says. They're nibbling on the prawn crackers that Seokmin brought over. Typical athlete – no sweets or sour cream and onion crisps. Soonyoung would even settle for dried seaweed and fruits. _Prawn crackers_. He might as well have gotten those disgusting protein bars that are disguised as chocolate bars. “Thought they'd be the type of people who plough through _War and Peace_ in a few hours.”

Seokmin laughs. Then he gets this pensive look on his face. “Thanks to people like them, the book industry will die out soon enough.”

Soonyoung thinks this is an interesting thought. Maybe Seokmin is full of interesting thoughts and he's bursting to say them, but can't since he hangs out with people like Seungcheol and Hansol. Maybe that's why he's such a talker when he wants to be. _Hm_. “I don't think the book industry will die out.”

“Why? We have everything online nowadays. Like, films. Loads of people prefer films to books, because it takes less effort to watch a film than read a book. Especially if it's just right there, on your phone. Like Netflix. So I reckon cinemas will die out, too. And eventually, we'll all have electric cars, so we won't have to use public transport to reduce carbon dioxide emissions or get around. So that'll die out, too.” Another interesting thought. Though it somehow feels like a _Hang On, It Gets Stranger by the Second_ moment.

“Yeah, I guess,” Soonyoung says. “But at the same time, people will always want to read and write books, I think. Not necessarily print them out on paper, I agree. Maybe they'll all be online, or on like, fucking floating screens, what do we know? But people will always want to have an imagination. I mean, with films and TV series? Everything's already laid out for you. The way characters look and the sceneries and moments. But with books, it's all in your head.” He nibbles on a prawn cracker. “People are always going to want to read something where they can like, paint their own picture of how it looks. People are always going to get ideas and want to write them down. Even films with amazing cinematography and great directors or not – they could be just shitty films. All films are based on writing. Some films, the most popular ones, too, are even based on books. Films need the book industry. And I don't think they'll ever be able to replace books.”

Seokmin is sitting on Soonyoung's windowsill, like Mingyu did yesterday. He's silent for a while. “Wow. I– I mean, _wow._ You have a lot of thoughts.”

“I have a lot of spare time,” Soonyoung says, which makes Seokmin laugh again. “And yes, I do have a lot of thoughts. I like thinking and observing. I like thinking about people and having special things, something distinct, for each person I know.” He's not sure why he's saying this.

“I have thoughts, too,” Seokmin says. “But, as I said, I can't really have smart conversations like this with my friends.” He also looks surprised with himself. Like, _who knew me and this homo saxophonist have things in common?_ “Dad's a police officer, too.” He sighs. “So mostly, my thoughts stay in my head.”

Soonyoung thinks about what Mingyu said after they'd egged Seokmin's house and can't help himself from blurting out, “I thought swimmers were meant to be stupid.”

Seokmin doesn't look offended. “Who said that?” He's smiling.

“Mingyu,” Soonyoung says. He almost adds: _You know, the guy your friends call Faggyu._

“Why'd he say that?”

“Because swimmers lose so many brain cells from diving into water so often, apparently.”

Seokmin snorts. “Maybe that applies to Seungcheol and Hansol.”

Soonyoung thinks this is an interesting thing to say about your friends. “Do you mean that in a joking, friendship way or did you just call them idiots?”

“I just called them idiots,” Seokmin says, without skipping a beat. “I may hang out with them, but they're not my _friends_. They _are_ idiots.”

“Hm,” Soonyoung says. That's all he says, even thought his brain is cooking up so many thoughts that it could explode on the spot. Not his friends? He doesn't consider Hansol and Seungcheol to be his friends? Maybe he even despises them? Maybe that's why Seokmin was yelling at Seungcheol after he punched Soonyoung?

And he's suddenly he's extremely thankful for his own best friends – the biggest patch of luck he ever received in his life. _Thank you thank you thank you thank you._

“What are you thinking about now?” Seokmin asks, softly.

Soonyoung shrugs. “My own friends.”

Seokmin nods. “It's weird, right?”

“What's weird?”

“That I hang out with idiots to maintain my reputation. Ish.”

“Yeah, it's weird. But I think a lot of people do it.”

“D'you think so?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“At least you know why I hang out with them. Whenever you call Seungcheol my friend, a part of me shrivels and dies.” He looks up to the ceiling of Soonyoung's room. “I'm not sure why I'm saying this to you, Soonyoung.” In that moment, the way he says Soonyoung's name sends shivers down his spine. “I guess I just wanted you to know that I don't want to associate myself with people like them. But, without them, I'd have no one.” He looks back at Soonyoung, probably thinking that Soonyoung will say something like: _But you have me._

But that's not real life. They barely even know each other, even though they've technically known each other half of their lives. They're too different. Seokmin just needs him to do well in his project and vent all of the thoughts he can never talk about with his idiot friends. Not friends – acquaintances, perhaps.

Soonyoung can observe and think all he likes, but Lee Seokmin is a mystery. Soonyoung thought that getting to know him more would make him less of a mystery, but it's the opposite. He's even _more_ of a mystery.

So Soonyoung just says, “There's a lot of idiots in this world.”

“Wise way beyond your years.” Seokmin smiles, but it looks sad this time.

He continues, “You either ignore idiots, fight them, or are them. You can't just hang out with them.”

“Maybe I'm fighting them.”

“No, _I_ was fighting them. Literally.”

“I fight them, in my head.”

“Not good enough.”

“I _want_ to fight them.”

“Better.” Soonyoung puts his prawn cracker down. “But would you ever? Fight them, I mean?” It's another one of his tests.

“Honestly,” Seokmin says, “I don't think I'd dare.”

“I thought so,” Soonyoung says.

They stare at each other.

“People are idiots,” Seokmin says at last. “But at least there are people like me and you in the world.”

They stare at each other some more.

“We should probably start the project,” Seokmin says.

Soonyoung realises he's blushing, and shakes his head slightly. “We should.”

 

 

_Me: what even is love_

_gyu: chilli cheese tops_

_jun: A social construct_

 

 

After several complaints, Seokmin starts bringing dried fruits (i.e. mango, papaya, banana, apple) Tao Kae Noi seaweed, cashews, hazelnuts, pistachios. Eventually, much to Soonyoung's delight, small chocolate bars (only Bounty and Twix – not Godiva – but it'll do). Whether he likes it or not, Soonyoung and Seokmin spend more and more time together. A month passes by quickly; the days and weeks floating together, and all of a sudden it's almost mid-October.

They decided that only meeting once or twice a week until December should be enough time to get the project done. By now they've been at both Soonyoung's mother and father's houses _and_ the library, since Seokmin was appointed the official bearer of snacks. The time at the library, despite them not being at Soonyoung's, Seokmin still arrived with a coffee in his hand, claiming that people who don't run on caffeine aren't actually human beings.

Once or twice a week is fine. Soonyoung has band, Seokmin has swimming. Soonyoung has his friends. Seokmin has his acquaintances.

Once or twice a week is fine.

Yet Soonyoung can't help but crave more.

Here's one of his philosophies about life: you have thoughts. You have bad and good thoughts. Sad and happy. You even have weird thoughts, you have intrusive thoughts, you have awful thoughts. You have thoughts that you just want to forget. There's no way to get around having thoughts. But what counts is what you do after. Do you choose to think about them? Do you choose to ignore them? Some people even let thoughts take over their life.

Which is what's currently happening to Soonyoung.

One thought prodded its way into his head, and decided to stay. It grew up in his mind, graduated university, made a family of its own; wriggled its way into the darker burrow of thoughts. And it settled there. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Which leads to now, in mid-October. His slow descent begins. The descent where the thought starts to take over his life.

This thought, you ask? All of the thoughts messing up his brain as he tries to sleep, as he tries to concentrate on something, as he tries to talk to his friends during lunch?

All of these thoughts lead back to one person.

“What?” Lee Seokmin asks. “Why not?”

“Why would you want to?” Soonyoung shoots back.

“Aw, c'mon, I think we know each other well enough now,” Seokmin says.

“We don't,” Soonyoung says.

Soonyoung's mother walks into his room, then. “Soonyoung, can you help me with– Oh, hi, Seokmin, I didn't know you're here.” She's taken a liking to Seokmin, smiling at him and telling not to bother helping with the dishes and that he can come over _whenever_ he likes, glaring at Soonyoung when he chips in with his opinion or a comment here and then ( _“Soonyoung, he's a_ guest _. Be nice.”)_.

“What was it, Mum?” Soonyoung asks.

“Oh, never mind, I'll just ask later,” his mother says. “Would you boys like something to drink?”

“We have water,” Soonyoung says.

She shoots him one of those Mother-Looks. “I wasn't asking you.”

Seokmin grins. “I'm fine, thank you, Ms. Kwon.”

“See, Soonyoung?” his mother says. “Here we have a polite boy with manners, hm? You could learn a thing or two from him.”

“ _Yes_ , Mum,” Soonyoung says. “We have to study, now.”

“ _Soonyoung._ ” She flicks his forehead. “Don't speak with that tone to me. Seokmin, you don't speak like this to your mother, do you?” Soonyoung winces, but Seokmin's smile remains brighter than ever.

“I live alone with my dad, actually,” he says.

His mother's expression softens. She lowers her hands from her hips and lets them hang by her sides. “Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. What a silly thing for me to say. Especially knowing exactly what that's like.”

“It's fine,” he says. “It's an easy mistake to make.”

“I'm sorry, anyway,” she says. They're all quiet for a few seconds. “What time are you leaving, Seokmin?”

“What time is it even?” Seokmin asks, checking his phone's screen. “Oh, _shi_ – it's already eight? Dad's gonna be piss– so angry.” He sighs. “I– I should probably go.”

Soonyoung's mother furrows her eyebrows. “Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner, Seokmin, darling?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I have to go or Dad'll worry,” Seokmin says, already grabbing up all of his notes and stuffing his computer into his bag. He doesn't spare a single glance at Soonyoung. Which annoys him. Obviously.

“I see,” she says. “Well, you're happy to come around again whenever. I'm sure if you asked your father he'd think it would be fine for you to stay.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Kwon,” Seokmin says.

Soonyoung looks at her, and she seems to get it, so she says a quick, “Anytime, sweetheart.” in lieu of a goodbye, then leaves the room. Leaves them alone.

Seokmin finally looks at him ( _When did I become like this?_ ) and says, “This conversation is _not_ over.”

He's completely dazed. Around Seokmin, he's always dazed. “What?”

“The conversation about the saxophone,” Seokmin says.

“Oh, right,” Soonyoung says. “I forgot we were talking about that.”

“I want to hear you play and that's final,” Seokmin says.

“You'll _never_ hear or see me play and that's final,” Soonyoung says.

“I can be pretty stubborn.”

“I can be even stubborner.”

“Goodbye, Soonyoung.” He winks as he shuts the door behind him.

Thanks to Seokmin being the way he is, Soonyoung's life begins its slow descent in a downwards spiral.

 

 

It starts with a dream.

In the dream, he and a person he can't make out the face of – it's blurred out for some reason – are lying on his bed, their legs intertwined, looking up at his ceiling. Without uttering a single word, the person – a boy, it seems, leans over and kisses him slowly. Languidly, softly. Caressing his face, touching his body lightly. Soonyoung presses them closer together, not leaving a centimetre of space between them, feeling for the back of his neck. He tugs gently at his hair. They pull away gasping after a bit, before swiftly reconnecting their lips. Kissing each other hungrily. Kissing each other like the world is ending tomorrow.

Soonyoung thinks: _This is really something beautiful._

The guy grasps at the hem of Soonyoung's shirt and puts his hands on his stomach, exploring underneath the thin cotton material. Every muscle in his body is shaking. He urgently kisses him again, the two of them lying together, holding each other tightly, Soonyoung feeling every inch of his body heating up faster than ever.

“Say my name,” he says.

“Soonyoung,” the guy says breathily.

Then he looks up and– He sees– He sees– _Oh,_ fuck _, no_ –

Seokmin is looking down at him. When he winks at Soonyoung, there's a glint of mischievousness in his eye.

Soonyoung wakes up in his bed, breathing rapidly.

His face is drenched in sweat; his pillow now dewy.

He's alone.

And Soonyoung thinks that, in that moment, he's never felt more alone in his entire life.

He turns his phone on to check the time. It's 6 a.m, on the 18th of October. A Saturday. He inhales, and exhales.

That weekend, Soonyoung cancels his plans with his friends and his session with Seokmin, saying that he's sick, that he'll probably be better by Monday, and no, Hao, it's not terminal, it's just a cold, yes, Gyu, I'll be fine, no need to worry. That weekend, he tries to practise his sax. Even losing himself in the music and pretending to be someone else is difficult. According to Soonyoung's own life philosophy, everything is difficult when a thought you want to ignore takes over your body.

Mostly, he lays in bed and stares up at the ceiling.

Here's the thing that's making his life a hell: his very own brain. Not his chivvying mother, his father who hardly cares about his existence, his friends worrying about him, chemistry lessons, college applications, _his future_. He can't even blame Seokmin for this; he can only blame himself.

He thinks about his own feelings. He tries to ignore them, but sometimes he can't. Those are the times he lays on his bed, staring at his ceiling aimlessly, hands behind his head and a migraine on its way.

His mother worries about him, asking if he's eating enough, sleeping enough. He says that he is, that he just caught a cold from Mingyu. She doesn't believe him. He's never been a good actor. He tells her that he just needs some time to sort his thoughts out. She believes this, and leaves him alone in his room. _Alone._ He's never hated being alone more. _What I really want?_ He's 17 years old, and wants his mother to wrap his arms around and tell him that it'll all be okay.

He skips school on Monday.

_gyu: are you coming to school today_

_gyu: WTF soonyoung we miss you_

_hao: where are you???????_

_hao: youve been sick all weekend where r uuuuuuu_

_hao: this isn't like you_

_hao: your immune system is made out of steel_

_gyu: it's not the same w/o you_

_Me: i'm sorry, i'll come to school tomorrow_

_gyu: H E  L I V E S_

_gyu: R E J O I C E_

_Me: i've been alive this whole weekend_

_hao: you kno what this calls for_

_jun: Minghao, not everything calls for a houseparty sesh_

_hao: :(_

_hao: we havent had one in ages:(_

_Me: i've been sick for ages now i look like shit_

_wonwoo: I'm sure that's not true!_

_Me: i'm just not up to it guys_

_hao: soonyoungie_ _plzzaxszzz_

_jun: If he's still sick, let him rest_

_hao: :(_

_Me: sorree_

_wonwoo: Don't apologise! Are you feeling better?_

_Me: i am wonwoo ty:]_

_hao: you're lying_

_Me: fuck off_

_Me: wonwoo's the only one i like out of all of you_

_jun: There he is, the Kwon Soonyoung we all know and love_

_Me: yeah yeah yeah_

_gyu: just come to school tomorrow k_

_gyu: we missed you_

_hao: the royal We_

_hao: JK love you soonie_

_Me: you should be grateful if i don't beat your asses tomorrow_

_Me: apart from JWW_

_wonwoo: :)_

The following day, Soonyoung goes to school as per usual. His friends shower him in love and hugs at the start of the day, but by the lunch they've already returned to taking the piss out of him and chatting without a care in the world ( _“The only cure for the common cold is blowjobs.” “I'm surprised you didn't say tea, Jun.”_ ). Soonyoung loves them for not making a big deal out of things. They _understand._ He goes to his classes. The normal stuff. After an hour and a half of social studies, Soonyoung walks out of the classroom half-dead, and forces him to drag his feet forward and squeeze past students to be able to turn into the corridor leading to band.

Something that's not very normal is Seokmin standing next to the door to room 305.

“Oh, hey, there you are,” he says, casually.

Soonyoung's reckons his heart is beating at 130 BPM. “Seokmin?”

Seokmin smiles, and combs a hand through his hair. “Soonyoung.” Soonyoung thinks of the dream he had – the way he had said, _“Say my name.”_ and the way Seokmin had kissed him as if their lives depended on it.

“Uh, what's up?”

“What's up with _you_?”

“I was sick.”

“I know. You said.”

“Is– Did you want to tell me something, or?” Soonyoung plays with his earring.

Seokmin looks down at him. “I guess I was just worried.” Soonyoung doesn't answer him. He's forgotten every word in his mother tongue and the languages he's studying. “You know, I observe things, too.”

This grabs his attention. “Observe things? Like, observe what?” People walking past them are staring. Seokmin is used to this. Soonyoung isn't.

“Habits,” Seokmin says. “Special things about people.”

“I do that,” Soonyoung says.

“I know,” Seokmin says. “You told me.”

“I did?” There's this lump in his throat. He tries to swallow it down multiple times. He fails.

“Are you angry at me?”

“ _What?_ ” Seokmin remains a mystery. “Wh–” Soonyoung struggles to find the right words without stuttering, “–why? Why would I even be angry at you?”

Seokmin shrugs. “It just felt like it. You randomly cancelled on me and then skipped school yesterday, I thought I'd done–”

“I was _sick_ ,” Soonyoung says. “I just didn't want to pass my cold on to anyone.”

“Okay,” Seokmin says. “Then, never mind. It was stupid of me to even come here. I should've just texted.” He frowns. “Now I'm having a déjà vu moment.”

Soonyoung, with sweating palms and a nauseous stomach, decides to test him again. “Have you heard about the fairy named 'Nuff'?”

“That again?” Seokmin looks at him. “I don't get it.”

“ _Fairy Nuff_. Fair enough.”

“Oh,” Seokmin says. “ _Oh._ ”

Soonyoung, with an increasing amount of blood in his face, says, “All I'm saying is swimmers and braincells.”

This makes Seokmin laugh. “Well, sorry for caring, then.”

And Soonyoung, who wishes he didn't turn various shades of pink whenever Seokmin so much as glanced at him, wants to say, “ _You_ should _be sorry for caring about someone like me._ ” In reality, he says, “See you tomorrow?”

Seokmin's eyes light up.

Soonyoung thinks he could be the power source for every classroom at East River High.

“Are at your mum's house?” he asks.

Soonyoung nods. “Yeah.”

“See you, then,” Seokmin says, flashing a grin. “I'll bring snacks. Promise.” He draws a cross over his heart. Then turns around and walks away.

After that, Soonyoung can't concentrate in band.

“Who keeps messing up this chord?” Mr. Zhang says, rubbing his temples. “If you can't remember that there's four sharps in this song, _remember_. Practise until you're sick of the song. Write it down in your sheet music for all I care. Tattoo it on your arm. Whatever. Just remember.”

Soonyoung likes Mr. Zhang. He's a good conductor. He's a good teacher. Mr. Zhang likes Soonyoung too; always giving him solos and sheet music to saxophone pieces he recommends, helping him improve step by step.

Today, though, Soonyoung's brain is flying around in the Milky Way, and Mr. Zhang has had enough.

“Soonyoung,” he says, eventually. “Get your head out of the clouds, _please_. You're really not with us today. You keep playing D instead of D sharp, it's making the chord sound wrong.” He sighs. “It's November, soon, and then there's only a month left until our end of term concert. Everyone, _pay attention_.” He claps his hands. “I hate having to say things like this, because you're all _incredibly_ talented, but it's like you're all on a different planet today. What's up?” Soonyoung diverts his attention to his notes – making sure he doesn't meet anyone's eyes. “Okay, sorry about that. Hm. Let's take it from measure 78 again, _tutti._ ”

Soonyoung doesn't have to look up to know that Minghao and Junhui are looking at him. Then at each other.

After band has finished and everyone starts chatting and packing up their instruments, Amari is the first person to walk up to him and engage a conversation. Which is surprising, since he hasn't really talked to her since he whole Hong-Jisoo-incident. Back then (almost two months ago by now) she was wearing her hair in box braids. Today, she's wearing it naturally – her curls and dark skin shining in a ray of light that somehow escaped into 305's window. Soonyoung thinks that maybe she's the most beautiful girl at school. And then he wonders why she would ever want to talk to someone like him. And then he feels bad because he was so drunk when they talked, that he hardly remembers what–

“Hey, Soonyoung,” she says.

“Hi, Amari,” Soonyoung says, and thinks about how Mingyu had said she was worried sick about him the night of the party. How she'd held him back from throwing another fist at Seungcheol that night. _Lovely girl._

She smiles. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, thanks, why'd you ask?”

“You missed band yesterday, _and_ Mr. Zhang came for your head today.” She sneaks a look at him. “I just, you know– just wondered if everything's good. Zhang was right when said that you looked totally spaced out today.”

“Was it that bad?” Soonyoung looks up from cleaning his sax. “Yesterday I was sick. And today, well, I'm just having one of those days. I guess.” He doesn't even know Amari's last name, but she seems like one of those girls who knows everything about everything. One of those girls who can talk to easily, who won't judge you.

“I see,” Amari says. She adjusts her bag on her shoulder and continues, “Your face has healed up nicely.”

“Yeah. My ribs are doing okay, too.”

“Good to hear. What even happened after all of that stuff went down?”

“Nothing, really, apart from my face being fucked up for a month and my mother not really believing my 'walked into a lamppost' story. Seungcheol didn't tell his parents or the school or anything, since he _technically_ started the fight _and_ it was off school grounds so there was really no point.” He smiles to himself. “I mean, he glares at me whenever he sees me, but there's nothing he can do. And he used to glare at me before, too.”

She laughs. “I'd be happy about that, if I were you. I hate people like him.”

“Good.”

“I mean, what dickheads!”

Soonyoung keeps liking her more and more. “Right? They think they own the world.”

“Those things he said to you. Those things angered me so much I wanted to punch him, too,” Amari says.

Soonyoung shrugs. “It's always been like that. I mean– I don't know why I lashed out like that. Maybe it was the alcohol.”

“I'm glad you did,” she says. “Thank _God_ for those fuckin' drink mixes.”

It makes Soonyoung laugh. _This is good._ Laughing is good. “I'm glad I did it, too. Honest.”

“Hey, Soonyoung?” she asks.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to like, grab a coffee together sometime? As in, _not_ a date. Just to talk. In a platonic way.”

Soonyoung likes Amari. She's pretty, smart and makes him laugh. Why would he say no? “'I'd love to. Oh, just add me on Facebook. My number's linked to my profile.”

“Facebook?” She laughs. “How old are you?”

“Young enough.”

Amari shakes her head. “Don't you have Snap?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. Though I rarely use it.”

“I guess I'll text you, then.” She smiles at him. “See you, Soonyoung.”

He waves at her back when she walks out of the room. He looks around the room to see if Minghao and Junhui are still there, but they've already left. Which is weird. They usually always wait for him.

When he gets home, Soonyoung checks his phone and is greeted with the sight of a new text message from Minghao.

 _[Private Chat between_ You _and_ hao _]_

_hao: hey dude whats up with you? know you say you dont want us to blow things out of proportion but are you ok?_

Soonyoung isn't sure why, but the text makes his eyes fill with tears.

_Me: hao i need to talk to you_

_Me: Alone_

He replies back in seconds.

_hao: i need to talk to you, 2_

_hao: alone_

_Me: when?_

_Me: it should be on a weekend and not after band so the others don't know_

_hao: can't this weekend, visiting my aunts uncles cousins and allofthat for halloween:/_

_hao: what about weekend after? start of november ish?_

_Me: sounds good_

_Me: hao, why'd you want to talk?_

_Me: are YOU ok_

_hao: i just need advice_

_Me: sure but i asked if ur okay_

_hao: honestly?_

_Me: honestly_

_hao: not really_

Soonyoung stares at his phone.

_Me: has something happened? do you need to talk to someone about it right now???_

_hao: it's nothing major soonyoung dw about it_

_Me: hm_

_hao: just plz don't mention this to the rest of the boys_

_Me: whatever you want_

_Me: does it have to do with them?_

_hao: not really_

_hao: you'll see_

_hao: it's nothing big, i promise_

_hao: maybe IM blowing things out of proportion_

_Me: just call or come over if or whenever you want to_

_hao: ly soonyoungie <3_

Soonyoung reckons all of his problems rooted from one main problem in his life. Which is him, holding too much love for people. Holding too much love for love. For life. For everything.

 

 

Seokmin comes over the next day.

He brings pumpkin seeds.

“Pumpkin seeds?” Soonyoung snorts. “What even is that?”

“They're nice,” Seokmin says.

They're almost down to the last part of the essay now – adding the finishing touches of it all. Trying to think of a good way to wrap it up. Starting to prepare the way they'll present the whole thing ( _Powerpoint?_ ) and writing down the key parts they need to remember to bring up on notes. Seokmin's tapping away at his laptop, sitting with his legs in a cross on the windowsill. That seems to be his place – his territory. Soonyoung's staring at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Seokmin asks, not looking up from the computer screen.

“What?”

“You're staring.”

Soonyoung is embarrassed at the way his face heats heat up. “Oh.”

Seokmin smiles and repeats himself, “What are you thinking about?”

“I don't know,” Soonyoung says. “My eyes got stuck, I guess.”

This amuses Seokmin. “Your eyes got stuck?”

“Yeah. You know, when your gaze or whatever gets caught on something and you're not really thinking about anything and you zone out and just listlessly stare at that spot.”

Not thinking about anything. Or everything.

“I see.”

“You do?”

“Soonyoung, were you bullshitting just now?”

He grins to himself, because he once promised himself he'd never sink as low as to smile at Lee Seokmin. Now that he thinks about it, he's probably broken that promise several times. “Maybe.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“You're looking at me weirdly.”

“Okay?”

“Is there something you wanted to say? To me?”

Soonyoung's problem is that he loves love too much, but he also fears it. Sometimes. (Maybe he only fears it when it has to do with boys that aren't really his friends but they're not really his enemies). So when Seokmin asks him if there's anything he wants to say to him, he thinks about it properly. Does he want to tell him about The Dream? Does he want to tell him about all of the pent up emotions inside of him? Does he want to tell Seokmin that he's never been more unsure about his feelings, ever? Does he want to tell him that _he's_ a thought that's taking over Soonyoung's life? Does he want to tell Seokmin that he fucking _hates_ the pumpkin seeds?

“I hate the pumpkin seeds,” Soonyoung says.

Seokmin laughs. “Well, sorry about that, your Majesty.”

Later, when Seokmin is leaving the house, he rakes his hand through his hair, then brings it down and brushes it over Soonyoung's face. Traces the fading bruises with his fingers. Gently, softly. His knuckles skim loosely over his cheeks, nose, then down to his chin. “You know, if you want to tell me something. Just tell me. I won't judge you. I like hearing your thoughts, and you're the only person who listens to mine.” He smiles a kind of smile that could make everyone on earth sigh and instantly fall in love with him. “You feel?”

Soonyoung gulps. He manages a weak, “'Kay.”

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself by writing his college admissions essay and playing and watching as his friends text each other; Soonyoung's skin still burns hours after Seokmin's hand was on his face.

He hardly sleeps that night.

 

 

The rest of the week, Soonyoung lives inside of his head.

Minghao, Junhui and Mingyu notice. Of course they do.

“Hey, Soonyoung?” Junhui asks on Friday at lunch. “Are you seriously okay recently? You haven't been on the groupchat much.” He looks concerned. Soonyoung thinks: _Wen Junhui is really one of a kind._

“It's like you're on another planet,” Mingyu says, biting his nails. “We're worried.”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung says, although he doesn't know what he's apologising. “Honestly?” They all nod. That's the thing about them – they crave honesty. “Uh, I haven't been getting enough sleep lately.” It's not the main issue in his life, but it's not a lie. He hopes it will appease them for at least a while.

It doesn't.

Obviously.

“Soonyoung, you could never start a career as an actor,” Mingyu says. Another thing about their obsession with honesty is that they always seem to know when the other's lying. They're like mothers, the lot of them. “You suck ass.”

Soonyoung smiles, and says exactly what he's thinking. “You're like mothers, the lot of you.” Then he laughs because he's not alone.

Junhui rolls his eyes. “Well, asshole, sorry for caring then–”

Minghao pinches his side. “Soonyoung, you can always talk to us whenever you want to. About anything.” They share a Parent-Look. And Soonyoung knows what he's talking about.

He imagines himself telling them about his thing about Seokmin. He imagines himself sitting with them and then simply saying, _“Guys, I think I have a crush on Lee Seokmin.”_ even though it's not as simple as that and it never will be as simple as that. He doesn't think they'd be angry or hate him. They'd probably just be shocked and confused – asking him loads of question. And he'd hate the feeling, the feeling of embarrassment as they'd just ask him, _“Why? Why him?”_

Yeah, why him?

“Ditto,” Soonyoung half-whispers, looking directly at Minghao. Then, raising his voice again, “When did you guys get all nice and soft, hm? 'Cause I was sick and you needed someone's house to chill out in at the weekend?”

“Ish,” Mingyu says.

“Yeah, we were just kidding when we said we missed you,” Junhui says. “We just missed your room and your mum's homemade _bunggyeoppang_.”

“Those are _the shit_ ,” Minghao says.

“You fuckers,” Soonyoung says, with no vemon in his words. “Hate you.”

Of _course_ he doesn't hate his best friends. He loves them so much that it aches.

Wonwoo joins them in that exact moment. “Hey, Soonyoung, how are you doing? Are you drinking enough water?” And everyone cracks up, saying things like, _“Wonwoo, you're seriously like a mother!”_ and _“Wonwoo, you're too precious for this planet.”_

 

 

On Monday the week later, Seokmin shows up at Soonyoung's house with a box of _Valrhona chocolates._

“As an apology for the pumpkin seeds,” he says, smirking. “Happy late Halloween.”

Soonyoung has never simultaneously liked and hated and someone more.

 

 

The day he arranged to meet Minghao alone comes quickly.

Soonyoung is slowing making his way up from the pit he fell into in October. He somehow distracts himself from his thoughts and goes into normal routine again, sorting his head out as he crawls his way through the week and life. Mr. Zhang is still on his ass for occasionally zoning out, especially since they're so close to the end of term concert, but he's surviving.

He hangs out with his friends. He practises until his shoulders and back hurt. He pretends he's on stage with his make-believe jazz band. He studies. He works on his college admissions essay. He doesn't go to Hong Jisoo's late Halloween party – deciding to stay at home and continue his unfinished chemistry lab report. _Weird._

“Hey,” Minghao says when Soonyoung opens the door.

He's smiling, but there's an inscrutable serious vibe radiating from his body.

“ _Ni hao_ ,” Soonyoung says, cracking a grin. It's a long running joke between them. Minghao's nickname being hao, and _ni hao_ meaning _hi_ in Mandarin. “Well, don't just stand there and freeze your dick off, come in.” Minghao's body slumps a little bit more, but he still gives off a tense aura.

Soonyoung makes them tea.

He puts the teapot on the stove (his mother is old-fashioned like that – she doesn't believe in kettles) and Minghao asks, “Where's your mum?”

“Out somewhere,” Soonyoung says.

“Shit, I was really hoping for some of her _rabokki_.”

He and Soonyoung share a look. Then burst out laughing at the exact same time. “Maybe we have some leftovers.” He squints at Minghao. “Hey, Hao, you're _18_  soon. Learn how to cook for yourself, God.”

“I can cook!” he protests.

“Instant noodles and french toast don't count.”

“I make the most bomb _xiaolongbao_ like, ever. Din Tai Fung has _nothing_ on my grandma's own recipe.”

“Hm.”

“And my family's _mapo doufu_ would clean your sinuses out for days _._ ”

Soonyoung laughs. “You're a special one, Hao.”

Minghao raises his eyebrows. “You're weird, Soonyoung.”

“I know.”

“When did you start saying things like that, huh?”

The teapot whistles. Minghao takes it off the stove and gets mugs out of the cupboard.

Soonyoung says, “I don't know.”

“Well, I mean. You're special, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Like, where'd you even get that from? It was so random.”

“I just felt like saying it.”

“Weird.”

“Maybe I'm weird.” As per usual, Soonyoung waits for his tea to grow tepid before drinking it. Minghao starts downing it straight away. “You know, I think that maybe I love things too much.”

“You're talking to yourself, weird-ass.”

“I'm talking to _you_.”

“What'd you say? You think you love things too much?” Minghao has a contemplative look on his face. “Loving things too much? Can you do that?”

“Maybe when the love starts to take over your life, like when a thought takes over your life.”

“Well, maybe that's good. Maybe it was meant to happen.”

Soonyoung thinks that's an intriguing thought. “I never thought of it like that.” He frowns. “I mean, nothing happens without a reason. I mean, even shitty things like, wars start for _some_ reason. Reasons aren't always good.”

Minghao looks sceptical. “What about racism or homophobia, then? What's the reason for things like that, hm? Bigotry?”

“Because the world is full of idiots, Hao.”

“Damn straight.”

They take the tea (and some leftover _rabokki_ ) to Soonyoung's room even though there's no one home. Minghao sits down on the bed and stretches his legs out. Soonyoung sits on the windowsill, thinking of Seokmin.

He understands why people like sitting there. Even though the view isn't the best – there's the streetlights and the neighbour's house with swings in the yard which is nicer than theirs and if it's a windy day you can see the clouds dancing back and forth in the sky. He thinks of something Seokmin once said whilst sitting on his windowsill, _“It's funny how you sometimes see the moon in midday, and sometimes you can't even see it at night.”_

“Minghao,” Soonyoung says, tearing his eyes away from the view. “What was it you wanted to talk about? There was something you wanted to tell me, right?” He uses Minghao's proper name. To show that he's not playing around.

“Yeah, um,” Minghao says. “Well, it's more of an advice thing.”

“You said.”

“You like giving advice, right? You and your life philosophies and things about people.” He has a weird smile rested on his face.

Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows. “I don't like giving advice, but I do it.”

“Sure,” Minghao says.

“Why does it feel like you're avoiding telling me something?” Soonyoung asks.

“I'm not _avoiding_ anything.”

“Spit it out, then.”

Minghao sighs – a deep sigh. “I just don't really know how to say it.”

“Hao, when have you ever had problems talking?”

“It feels like you'll be the one to overreact now.”

“If you keep dragging it out like this, then maybe I _will_ overreact,” Soonyoung says. “C'mon, you know we _get_ each other. I won't judge you, I promise. I don't do that. I'll try and help you. Unless you're about to tell me you murdered a man.”

“You'd still help me bury the body, though,” Minghao says, laughing.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, “yeah, of course I would.”

Minghao stares at his tea. “Me and Mingyu fucked.”

Soonyoung wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. “ _Fucked_ -fucked?”

Minghao winces. “Yeah. I– I mean we had sex. Made love. Whatever you want to call it.”

They've always told Soonyoung that he has an awful pokerface. But he thinks he's doing a pretty good job at masking his initial emotion – utterly perplexed. Then he wonders how much he actually missed when he was in his own world, drooling and angst-ing over Lee Seokmin. What kind of person doesn't realise that his two best friends are having sex behind his back? “When?”

“When?” Minghao repeats. “Uh, it must've been like, two weeks ago. The weekend you were sick.” He looks like he's about to end the story there unless being indicated otherwise, glancing at Soonyoung for his approval. Soonyoung nods. That's the thing about them: their silent conversations. “We were at this party. You cancelled on us, and Wonwoo and Junhui went on another date or whatever the fuck. So me and Mingyu decided to go to a party, you know? The first party since the one where you punched Seungcheol. And– and we were having a great time. It was some college chick's house, pretty big. Over on Sparrow Lane, you know those villa houses there? Yeah. Really nice place, loads of people from school.”

Minghao stops, rubbing his temples.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” Soonyoung says, as gently as he can muster.

“No, I want to,” Minghao says. He takes another deep breath. “We had a few beers together. We were having a good time. Mingyu wasn't completely gone from the alcohol like the time at Jisoo's.” He smiles. “Anyway, we were like, both a little bit tipsy. Not _drunk_ , just tipsy, you know? It was fun. We were dancing together, I remember. Even though I wasn't even drunk, I have these like, memory gaps.”

“Memory gaps?”

“Like, a certain moment where I just don't remember anything. I have a few about that night. But– But I remember clearly that me and Gyu decided to go up to one of the bedrooms. I think he said he wanted some space, because I remember asking him if he wanted to leave or go outside? I don't know. So, yeah, we were in the bedroom.”

Minghao is looking directly at Soonyoung now, most likely studying his reaction. He continues, “And, I don't _really_ know what happened. The mood changed, somehow. And then we both wanted to do it. And we just– had sex. That was it. I don't really know why. There was no feelings. We just did it. So it wasn't really 'making love'. It really was just fucking-fucking.”

When he realises that Minghao has finished his talk, Soonyoung thinks of the most obvious things first. “Did you use a condom?”

“Yeah, we did,” Minghao says. “I remember that.”

“Was it– No, never mind.”

“Ask,” Minghao says, quietly. “It's okay.”

Soonyoung looks at him. “Was it your first time?”

“No,” Minghao says. “But–” He pauses. “But I think it was Gyu's. First time, I mean.”

And that's when he starts crying.

Which, for Soonyoung, is _really_ _fucking weird_.

He sees Xu Minghao (Xu Minghao!), his best friend, almost as if for the first time. Minghao, the guy who always walks with his head high and has enough confidence for the entire school. Who makes sarcastic and crude comments, but all the same never lets his affection waver for his friends. Who has strong opinions about everything and everyone and could create an earthquake with the amount of sheer willpower that he has. _His Minghao._ Soonyoung sees his Minghao, his Hao, his best friend.

He sees Minghao hang in head in shame.

“ _Oh_ , Hao,” Soonyoung says. “I'm so sorry.” He jumps down from the windowsill and crosses the room in a millisecond, enveloping Minghao in his arms, letting him cry against his chest and into his shoulder. The tears streaming down his face seemed to never end; an endless cycle of quick breaths and hiccups and incoherent rambling.

Honestly? A few hours could've passed and Soonyoung wouldn't even have noticed.

“Soonyoung, you should've been at lunch that next Monday, the one where you were off school,” Minghao says, wiping his eyes and dripping nose with Soonyoung's shirt. Soonyoung lets him. “It was just– It was so _awful_. Me and Gyu hardly talked. We haven't talked alone about _it_ since it happened. And I need advice because, seriously, I don't know what the _fuck_  to do next.”

Soonyoung has had enough of letting thoughts stay in his head. He says, “Honestly, I feel bad because I didn't notice that anything was wrong. There was nothing off to me.”

“I don't think Wonwoo and Junhui have, either,” Minghao says. “Mingyu's a good actor. So am I. And I think we just decided to, well, just let things go on as normal. _Fuck_. As _if_ they could.”

“I think that I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn't stop to think about what was right in front of me,” Soonyoung says. “I've been living in my head. Sorry.”

“Don't apologise,” Minghao says.

They're quiet for a moment, until Minghao continues with a, “I don't know what to do. _It was his first time._ ” He starts crying again. (This is not the delicate, few-tears-running-down-his-cheeks type of crying. It is full on _bawling_.) Soonyoung wipes his tears again. “I feel so embarrassed and guilty, too. Like, what have I done?”

“I know that feeling,” Soonyoung says.

“Hey, excuse me, Aristotle, Oscar Wilde? Why don't you tell me why life fucking sucks sometimes?” It's a weird moment. Minghao still has fresh tear tracks on his face, and his eyes are red and puffy, and his nose is still running, but he starts laughing, which means that Soonyoung also starts laughing.

“I don't think even philosophers know that.” Soonyoung tugs at his hoop earring. “I'm no philosopher, but I'm old enough to know a few things, and I think that maybe you need the sad parts of your life just as much as the happy ones.”

“That's really well said and all,” Minghao says, “but you just got that from _Inside Out_.” They start laughing again. _Weird._

Since Soonyoung has decided to not let things stay inside of his head anymore he says exactly what he imagined saying a few days before. “Hao, I also have something to say to you, remember? It's that I think I have a crush on Seokmin.”

Soonyoung thought Minghao's lips would part, that he'd cover his mouth in shock. That he'd splutter and ask questions. That he'd maybe even be _stunned into silence._

All he does it roll his eyes. “I know, Soonyoung.”

“What?”

“ _I know._ ”

He frowns. “How would you know? I've never told you.”

Minghao smiles one of those secretive smiles. “I've always known. Maybe even before you. Gyu and I have had our suspicions for ages.”

“ _What?_ How come I haven't known this?”

“You once asked about the looks we give each other. It's that, whenever you talk about Seokmin, your face lights up. Or you switch the conversation topic back to him even though it wasn't about him, and things like that. So me and Gyu realised this. And we reckoned you probably didn't know. Which is why we started the looks. And the teasing about him being your boyfriend. They were hints, to you.” He sips his tea even though it must've gone cold by now. “And that's why we made you egg his house.”

“Already back then?” Soonyoung rakes his hand through his hair. “That was like, August. Or September.”

“Yup. Already back then.”

Soonyoung is silent. “This is why I said you're special, Hao.”

“Nah. I don't think so. I'm just some ordinary guy who keeps fucking shit up. Literally _fucking shit_. Then getting anxious and embarrassed over it.”

“Maybe that's what makes you special. Besides, I feel you about embarrassment,” Soonyoung says. “I feel embarrassed over liking Seokmin, too.”

Minghao sits up then, and looks at him. Looks at him properly. _The real deal._ Bores his way through Soonyoung's skull, into his mind. “Why?”

“Why, 'why'?”

“Why would you be embarrassed over liking Seokmin?”

Soonyoung sighs. “I don't know. When did I even start liking him? I don't _know_. I was like, 12 the last time I had a _'crush'–_ ” he air-quotes, “–on someone. It's embarrassing, don't you think? Half of the school like him, too.”

“So?” Minghao says. “What's embarrassing about liking Seokmin? You've basically known him your entire life.”

“I thought you didn't like him?”

“He's warming up to me.”

“You're contradicting yourself. What's embarrassing about having sex with your best friend?”

Minghao splutters, “What's _not_ embarrassing about it? I'm _ashamed_. It was his first time, and I just took it away from him. Just like that!” He grimaces. “And now he _hates_ me.”

“No way.” Soonyoung shoots him this look. “There's no way in _hell_ that Mingyu hates you. How could– Why would you even _think_ that?”

Minghao doesn't reply.

“He wanted it, too,” Soonyoung says.

“I _know_ ,” Minghao says. “Fucking hell, I know.”

“You need to talk to him,” Soonyoung says. “That's my honest advice. Otherwise you'll never solve shit.”

“You need to talk to Seokmin, too.”

“Only if _you_ talk to Mingyu.”

“You're a shitty relationship guru.”

“Go cry to Gyu over it.”

Minghao hits his shoulder. Sighs. “We're a mess.”

Soonyoung copies his sigh. “At least you knew about my mess. I didn't know about yours.”

“You should tell the rest of the guys. About the thing about Seokmin.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Minghao brings his legs up against his chest. He puts his chin on his knees. “I'll talk to him. I will.”

“You said there was no feelings involved when you two had sex,” Soonyoung starts. “Did you really mean it? Or are there some feelings involved, maybe?”

Minghao pulls a face. “I don't know. Shit, _I don't even know._ ”

“That's okay,” Soonyoung says. “You know, our friendship group is _tight_. Stronger than graphene.” Minghao mouths, _Nerd._ “Nothing – sex, dates, relationships, nice boys, asshats – could _ever_ change that. I'm serious. Cross my heart, hope to die. I don't even get what you're worried about.”

“I know, I know,” Minghao says, and he closes his eyes, like he's about to fall asleep. Then he says, “If I talk to Gyu, I'm going to need something stronger than tea. Tequila, maybe.”

Soonyoung smiles. “I thought tea was the cure to all problems?”

“Not all of them,” Minghao says. “Not Kim Mingyu. Man, that dude. _He's_ the special one.”

Soonyoung thinks until his brain hurts. “I guess it's always made sense.”

Minghao turns back to him. “What has?”

“You and Gyu.”

“But, not really. It's you and Seokmin that's always made sense. I don't know why you feel embarrassed about that.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I don't know, either,” Soonyoung says.

“There's a lot of things we don't know,” Minghao says.

Yet, sitting there on his bed, in a tear-stained shirt, next to Minghao and a forgotten bowl of _rabokki_ , he doesn't feel dazed about life and life's questions and life philosophies or ashamed about Seokmin or afraid of what might come next.

He feels fucking enlightened.

Mingyu's voice from the night of the party at Jisoo's echoes in his head: _It's like, eureka! No, not eureka. Not eureka. It's like,_ euphoria.

 

 

That night, when he tries to fall asleep, Soonyoung remembers something that his mother once told him. Something that he hasn't thought about in ages.

He has this vivid memory of when he was – _11 or 12?_ – starting to go through puberty. He was quite an innocent child, having grown up mostly with his overprotective mother and a father not bothering enough to tell him about things.

So the first time he'd started to question his sexuality after developing a middle-school-crush on a boy, he had cried. Not because he was sad. Not because he was angry. Not because he was confused. Because he was embarrassed of having feelings like that – because that's the kind of person he was. Who he is. And after he'd turned 13, he had told his mother that he thought he was gay. She'd asked him why he thought that. He had explained everything to her, and how embarrassed he was, because that's the kind of person he was; he could never lie to her, anyway. His mother had merely placed her hands on his shoulders, looked at him and said, “Soonyoung. Shame can sometimes be the most useless emotion. Why would you ever be embarrassed of yourself like that? Do you care about what others think of you? Get a grip.” She'd let go of him, and continued hanging up clothes on the drying rack like nothing had happened. “Don't ever tell me you're embarrassed over yourself. Horse crap. Bullshit.”

It was the first time he'd ever heard her curse.

 

 

On that following Monday at school, Mingyu and Minghao talk – no alcohol involved. And neither of them come back crying.

Soonyoung reckons that's always a good sign.

In fact, they both look extremely content. They walk back to the usual table at lunch all smiles and a calm conversation. Soonyoung's happy. Minghao is, too, walking with his head held high, chin in the air again, sending Soonyoung a knowing look as they sit down. It could be described as a look of relief. Mingyu looks like he's standing on top of the world.

“Looks like you two finally solved some shit,” Junhui says.

Minghao and Mingyu look at him, then at each other. “You knew?” Mingyu asks. Minghao sends a pointed look at Soonyoung. But he never told Junhui – or anyone – about anything. So he shrugs.

“Nope.” Junhui leans back in his seat. “But you just confirmed it.”

“What happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“Nothing important,” Minghao says, at the same time as Mingyu says, “Just a little something.” Those two. They're always in sync.

“Okay, well.” Wonwoo smiles. “I'm glad that you solved it, anyway.” He doesn't press for more information. He just continues eating his egg-and-spinach sandwich.

Soonyoung's starting to think that Junhui was right – maybe not all people who hate cursing and don't drink alcohol and wear cardigans are nurturing a deep, dark secret. Maybe there are just plain nice people in the world. Maybe they need more people like that in the world.

Soonyoung says, “Guys, I think I have a crush on Lee Seokmin.”

He says it loud enough for the tables next to them to hear.

_So what?_

And Junhui says, rolling his eyes, “And we care, why exactly?”

And Mingyu says, “Took you long enough.”

And Minghao says, “Shut up, wankers, the poor guy's been living in denial.”

And Wonwoo says, smiling when he sees Soonyoung's face, “We all knew, Soonyoung.”

“Even you, Wonwoo?” Soonyoung puts down his apple juice. “So everyone knew apart from me?”

“Yeah,” Junhui says.

“Pretty much.”

Soonyoung wonders why and how he ever worried about this moment. “I seriously– I thought you guys hated him.”

“Well, you obviously don't hate him,” Mingyu says, and Soonyoung can't even deny it. “I have nothing against the guy. His friends piss me off, though. But I– I have my suspicions, and I don't think Seokmin really likes them either. Remember the way he was yelling at Seungcheol that time, instead of taking his side? He's never stood up for them in an argument.”

“He told me he doesn't even want to call them his friends,” Soonyoung recalls.

Minghao snorts. “Seriously? You're pulling my leg.”

“Hundred goddamn percent serious. Those were his _exact words_. He said he doesn't want to associate himself with 'idiots like them'.”

“I keep liking him more and more,” Junhui says.

“Me, too.” Soonyoung sighs.

Wonwoo asks, “Well, what's so bad about that?” They all turn to him. “I mean, you like him.”

“Exactly,” Minghao says. “What's the problem?”

Soonyoung squints at them. “Didn't you guys also think he was straight?”

“I never did,” Junhui says.

“For the record, me neither,” Mingyu says.

“I didn't,” Minghao says. “I just argued against you to get you going. Me and Gyu–” he sends a big smile to Mingyu, “–really laid down the hints that we knew, but you really had to figure it out in your own time, I guess.”

“Well, even if he's not straight,” Soonyoung says. “He wouldn't like me back.”

They all erupt into arguments immediately, making a few people in the cafeteria turn and stare.

“Are you kidding me?” Minghao squeals. _Squeals._ “He looks at you like you created the world with your own hands. Like you can turn water to wine. _Walk on water._ He looks at you like you're Jesus himself!”

Mingyu waves his arms. “How many times has he waited for you before band to talk to you, and all of that? How many weekends has he sacrificed to work on your 'project'?”

Soonyoung struggles to find proper words. “Gyu, we have an actual Eng. lit project together.”

“Hm,” Minghao says. “That's what they _want_ you to think,”

“I mean – even your mum looks at Seokmin like, _'What a nice future son-in-law I have'_ ,” Mingyu says.

“ _What?_ ” His cheeks are unquestionably scorching hot.

“Aw, he's blushing,” Wonwoo says.

“Aw, little Soonie,” Junhui says, pinching his cheek.

“ _Gerroffme_ ,” Soonyoung grumbles.

Minghao slurps his cup noodles. “Seriously, how can you doubt yourself that much?”

Mingyu nods. “He'd do anything for you. A–ny–thing!” He enunciates every syllable. “Like I said, the night of Jisoo's party when he started going off at that motherfucker Choi Seungcheol for attacking you. Didn't you say he brings snacks for you every time you meet up? And like, instantly opened up to you about his life story? He'd sell his liver on the black market for you.”

“It was so obvious, even from that time he had 'a talk' with you about the whole egging thing,” Junhui says. They all swivel their heads to look at him. “Like, he actually went along with your bullshit story? If he was straight and really, actually, _truly_ hated you, he'd be all _'No homo!'_ , denying the story and saying that we're lying, _especially_ in front of his father. But – his dad hardly even reacted to the gay part. Not a flinch. He was only mad 'cause we woke him up. And Seokmin didn't get mad at you after, either.” He rolls his eyes. “Doesn't that mean anything to you idiots?”

“Oh,” Soonyoung says, because he has nothing better to say.

“ _'Oh'_ ,” Junhui mocks him.

Minghao stares at Junhui. “Jun, that's like, the longest consecutive time I've ever heard you talk.”

Mingyu laughs. “Seriously, right? Is that what goes on in that head of yours when you just shrug?”

Junhui shrugs.

After they've finished laughing, Wonwoo pipes up with a gentle, “Soonyoung, you should talk to him. Tell him. What's so bad about that?”

And he's about to answer that there's about a million different things that could go wrong, but apparently the world really isn't his hands, because Seokmin walks up to their table at that exact moment in time. It also happens to be the first time he's ever walked up to them in the cafeteria.

With Lee Seokmin, he really had to learn to expect the unexpected.

“Hey, Soonyoung, can I talk to you for a sec?” He smiles, and his eyes crinkle the way they do. The blood in Soonyoung's body seems to be on a mission – rushing to his face as quickly as possible.

“Uh,” Soonyoung says. His friends look at him. _Seriously_ look at him. “I don't know. I need to finish my–”

Minghao glares at him. “You've already finished it.”

Soonyoung says, “I said– I mean my lu–”

Mingyu interrupts him, “He'll gladly talk to you, Seokmin.” He kicks Soonyoung under the table, making him visibly wince. Seokmin looks like he's trying not to laugh at the exchange.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says. “I was finished anyway.”

“Corridor, then?” Seokmin says.

He glances at his friends briefly whilst standing up. “See you guys later?” Wonwoo grins at him, Mingyu places his hand on Soonyoung's thigh and pushes him slightly, followed by a, _“Just go.”_ from Minghao and Jun.

( _gyu: go get that dick bro_

_hao: can you stop saying that_

_gyu: what_

_gyu: why_

_gyu: are you jealous;)_

_jun: Get a room..._

_gyu: im just letting this gc live up to its name_

_hao: you were the one who said we had to change it_

_jun: Welp_

_gyu: i changed my mind_ )

Soonyoung is no therapist, but he knows people. He studies people. He observes them. He _knows_ Seokmin.

And from the database, with all of the information he has gathered in his brain, he can see that Seokmin is _nervous_. Anxious, even. He's performing every nervous habit Soonyoung's brain has collected and memorised over the past months.

Seokmin fiddles with his thumbs, rakes a hand through his hair, tugs at the hem of his shirt. “So, there's this thing.”

 

 

“And _then_ he asked me,” Soonyoung says. “You know. Just like that.”

“No shit,” Amari says, leaning back in her chair. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“If it's that easy,” Amari says, “why don't I have a boyfriend already?”

Soonyoung laughs. He enjoys being in her company, feeling completely at ease and not scared to share any thoughts. Directly after the corridor's events he decided that he needed to hear a completely unbiased opinion from a new, different perspective. When band finished he asked Amari if she wanted to grab that coffee she had promised ( _“Like, right now?” “Like, right now.”_ ) and now they're sitting at this nice café a few blocks away from school – one of those ones where everyone inside has _Fjällräven Kånken_ bags and you can choose any kind of milk for your drink. The walls are painted pastel colours, there's plants stuffing the windowsills and various smaller ones littered around on the tables.

Amari, with her raspberry lemonade and boyfriend jeans with holes even though it's December, she fits right in. Soonyoung on the other hand, has felt out of place from the moment that he bought a cappuccino with _cow's milk_.

“Just 'cause he asked me to go to a football game with him doesn't mean that he's my boyfriend,” Soonyoung says, squinting at her. “It's like, a friend thing.”

She raises a single eyebrow. “You said it's the first time you hung out with him outside of that project? Is that not a date?” She laughs. “How is that _not_ a date?”

Soonyoung sips the froth from his drink. He reckons caffeine is a drug. “I _said_ , it's a friend thing.”

“Friend, my ass.”

“Nothing wrong with being friends.”

“No, of course not,” Amari says, smiling at him. “Platonic love is more important than romantic.”

“You're smart,” he says, not really meaning to say it out loud, but doing it anyway.

“I know,” she says.

“I don't _love_ Seokmin.”

“Well, you like him. That's always a start.” She takes a swig from her own drink, grimacing momentarily at the sour taste. “Everything starts somewhere. You don't start loving or liking someone for no reason.”

Soonyoung makes a face. “I like him. _Ugh._ ”

She props her elbow up on the table and rests her head on the palm of her hand. She studies his face for a few seconds. “What's so _ugh_ about it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Now you're sounding like my other friends.”

“Oh, Kim Mingyu and them?”

“Hm? How'd you know?”

“We talked when you blacked out at that party. I mean – 'talked' and 'talked'. We panicked together. It was this kind of mutual connection.”

“Oh.”

“I talked to that Minghao sometime, too.”

“Hao? What'd he say?”

“It wasn't at the party. It was a while later, after we talked that time in band. He asked me what we'd talked about. I said we'd talked about grabbing a coffee.” She has a thinking-face on. “He's a nice guy.”

“Mingyu or Minghao?”

“Both.”

“Yeah. They're always in sync, those two. It's almost scary.”

She laughs. “Scary?”

He continues, “Yeah, scary. They're special ones like that.”

“'Special ones'?” Amari breaks into another grin. “You always talk about people like that?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Only the special ones.”

“You're honest, Soonyoung. I admire that.”

“You know, you're special, too.”

She's _really_ grinning. “Seokmin thinks you're special, too.”

“Again, _ugh._ I hope so.”

“I know so.”

He thinks about the conversation he had with Minghao. “Well, I don't know _shit._ ”

Amari lifts up her lemonade. “Cheers to not knowing shit.” They clink their drinks together, smiling at each other and at the art of being clueless and feeling knowledgeable at the same time.

 

 

_eggboy: So now we've even hung out outside of school and your house...and I consider us friends...yet_

_eggboy: You won't let me hear you play_

_Me: i have a lot of things to do rn_

_eggboy: So do I_

_eggboy: How about I propose an idea_

_Me: no_

_eggboy: You come to my swimming semi-finals and I can come to your end of term concert_

A wave of chagrin washes over Soonyoung as he realises that his mind has already gone to darker places; imagining Seokmin standing by the edge of a pool, shirtless, with only Speedo shorts on, and Soonyoung's entire being vibrates as he thinks about Seokmin walking up to him later, towel around his neck and his body wet and hair slightly dewy from swimming and– _Shit._

_Me: no_

_eggboy: When is it? The 20 th right_

_Me: it's never_

_eggboy: Why not:(_

_eggboy: Want to hear you play:((((_

_Me: too bad_

_eggboy: Meanie_

_Me: this is how i treat all of my friends_

_eggboy: So you admit it_

_Me: what_

_eggboy: You admit thst we're friends_

_eggboy: that*_

_Me: you said it first??_

_eggboy: It felt like you were denying it for a while..._

_Me: well maybe i was_

_eggboy: Well what made you change your mind?_

_Me: i know you want me to write YOU_

_eggboy: ..._

_Me: ..._

_Me: i changed my own mind_

_Me: not anyone else_

_eggboy: Hm_

_eggboy: Interesting_

_Me: ?_

_eggboy: Interesting way of thinking_

_Me: go to sleep seokmin_

_eggboy: Goodnight:)_

Soonyoung dreams that he and Seokmin are at an aquarium together.

For a while, they walk around looking at the small tanks, chatting and reading the facts about the different species and discussing the lives of seahorses. Eventually, they get around to the bigger enclosures; stingrays and sharks. Soonyoung runs up to the glass and points at the hammerhead shark, and Seokmin laughs at him and says that he's too old to be this excited. Soonyoung retorts that he'd older than him and just as Seokmin opens his mouth to argue back, the glass walls to the shark tank collapse. The water flows out into the room with the broken glass and it's suddenly asphyxiating him and his brain seems to be numb. He thinks: _What the fuck is going on?_ He tries to get back to his senses and looks up to see Seokmin, desperately trying to swim up and regain air in his lungs. It's like, tunnel vision. All he sees is one single person. When Soonyoung tries to do the same, he realises that he's stuck at the bottom. Something is holding him back.

He watches as a shark slowly approaches Seokmin, and he tries to yell and he tries to break away from the ground but he _can't_ and he grows frustrated and distressed at this vicissitude of events, thinking, _I just wanted one proper date,_ not _a friend thing at a football game._ He remembers reading on the information brochure that this aquarium has seven sharks and he screams, _“Seokmin! Watch out!”_ multiple times in a row, even though his cries turn into bubbles, making it easier for more and more water to fill his body. Although his mind is intact, Soonyoung's body is staring to give up. He can hardly see Seokmin – or anything – anymore and his lungs are weakening by the second. He shouts a last desperate, “ _Seokmin!_ ” before his body gives up on him and he doesn't– he _can't_ think at all.

Soonyoung thought that when you drown your life is meant to flash before your eyes. For him? All he sees is black.

An unidentifiable voice says, _“Look down.”_

And he somehow manages to open his eyes again.

And when when he looks down to the ground, he sees that it's not a 'something' holding him down – it's a person.

Seokmin grins up at him from where his arms are wrapped tightly around Soonyoung's legs. _“Soonyoung, why didn't you try to save me?”_

He wakes up.

He leans over in his bed and checks the time on his phone.

5.17 a.m., 10th of December.

Today's the day he's presenting his _The Picture of Dorian_ Gray project with Seokmin. In just over a week – the concert.

With all of the possible future scenarios filling his head and idea of Seokmin next to him and the place he'd touched Soonyoung on his face ages ago regaining its fire, there's no way Soonyoung can fall asleep again. Even though he hardly gets any sleep these days; thanks to exams and his friends wanting to Houseparty every night and practising the sax so much that his shoulders dislocate and his mouth goes as dry as the Sahara Desert.

He stares at the ceiling for another hour, concentrating on trying to let the thoughts pass through his head _'like a cloud'_ – acknowledging them, but simply letting them go – something he read a while ago on an online website on the topic 'intrusive thoughts'.

At 6.30. he texts his friends:

_Me: what do you guys think about aquariums_

_hao: ????_

Soonyoung closes his phone.

_Houseparty: xmh is in the house._

_Houseparty: xmh wants to talk._

_Houseparty:_ _mingyu:) is in the house._

That's the moment his mother walks into the room. “Soonyoung, I've been shouting for _ages_ – Oh, darling, what is it?” Her face alters when she sees him. “Has something happened?”

He's not really sure why, but he starts crying.

_Crying._

Soonyoung has a theory about crying. He reckons that a person is like a water balloon – every moment you collect in life adds another splash of water into your body. Every moment. Bad or good, happy or sad, confusing or enlightening. Someday, a moment will be like a needle. And you can have collected thousands of memories and thousands of litres of water, or just a few drops, but that moment which symbolises the needle will pop the water balloon. Everything you have held inside of you, all the rivers and waterfalls and teaspoons and cups of tea inside of you, for however long, will be let out. And that's when you cry.

For Soonyoung, the moment which is the needle has always been hearing his mother's voice.

When he was young, he would scrape his knee or get a paper cut or a nosebleed and often just hold the pain in and his tiny water balloon would fill up ever so slowly. Then his mother would ask, _“Oh, Soonyoung, what happened?”_ and he would instantly burst into tears.

Nothing has really changed.

His mother holds him until he has to start getting ready for school. He doesn't bawl like Minghao did. He cries the different type of tears; soft, discreet tears. She strokes his hair and then kisses his forehead when she leaves the room. Like she always does.

They don't really say anything. They don't have to.

Even cracking a gingerbread biscuit in three perfect pieces, not stepping on any manhole covers on the way to school or squeezing two seeds out of a slice of lemon in one go (all things considered lucky to him) couldn't help him now. The moment he sees Seokmin, his knees go weak. Honestly, officer _._ His knees _go weak._

“Hey,” Seokmin says.

“Goodhi,” Soonyoung says. He frowns. “Goodhi– good what? Bye? Hi? Good morning?”

Seokmin's eyes are glittering. “Goodhi to you, too.”

“Uh,” Soonyoung says. _Enlightened. Sure._

“Do you have the notes?” Seokmin asks, holding up his computer, smile never leaving his face.

“Notes?” Soonyoung asks. “Oh, yeah, the presentation. Yeah.” He looks down to his bag, zips it open and takes out the folders of their endless drafts and printed-out final essay and notes. “I have everything ready.”

“Good,” Seokmin says. “Otherwise we'd be pretty done for.”

Soonyoung meets his gaze. “What's your opinion on aquariums?”

Seokmin squints. “Aquariums?”

“Yeah, aquariums.”

“Honestly, I don't like them.” Seokmin scratches his head and continues, “We used to go that one around Orchid Road, you know? My dad and I, when I was young. I didn't really like being there. I always thought the glass would break. But I liked seeing the clownfish, 'cause of _Finding Nemo_. So it was a love-hate relationship.” He smiles to himself in this melancholic way. Soonyoung notices. “Shit, I haven't thought about that in a while.”

Seokmin looks at him in a way that could make Soonyoung's entire body go up in flames. “Why'd you ask?” Soonyoung is about to open his mouth and answer, most likely not as truthfully as Seokmin did, but Mrs. Carter shushes them all and starts droning on about the assignment and her high hopes for everyone and the words sort of die on his tongue.

The actual presentation is pretty anti-climatic. For months, he'd been thinking that it would be such a big deal – possibly because of all the times he had to meet Seokmin thanks to it. In the end, it's just like a normal presentation.

They discuss the book, its meaning and the way it plays out. They also draw parallels between it and other stories and events, talk a little about Oscar Wilde and his life, explain their own opinions on it. They get a mediocre amount of applauses and some words from Mrs. Carter and their classmates and Soonyoung has to admit that when he sits back at his desk with Seokmin in tow, face sporting a wide grin, he's slightly disappointed. _Is that all there is? Is it over now?_

Then, Seokmin leans over and whispers ( _Can this guy read minds, or what?_ ), “Guess we'll have to meet once a week for other reasons, right?” He winks.

Soonyoung kicks him in the shin and mumbles things like, _What are you saying, idiot, I only ever liked you for the snacks, there's not point in doing other things, go back to your own goddamn house for once._

Seokmin just laughs. “I'm not giving up until I hear you play.”

“What _ever._ ”

“I'll bribe you with more chocolate and tickets to games. You enjoyed it, right?”

“Not listening, Lee.”

“Want to go to the aquarium together, Kwon?” He leers a playful leer.

Mrs. Carter, frowning, claps her hands and says, “Soonyoung, Seokmin, please. Pay attention.”

“This conversation is _not_ over,” Seokmin says, without a single trace of venom detected in his words, and Soonyoung has a major déjà vu feeling.

 

 

The last rehearsal before the concert always seems to go the worst.

Maybe because people seem to think that it's the _perfect time_ to suddenly be filled with nerves and make mistakes every other measure. Maybe because Soonyoung and his friends have a tradition of sharing a bottle of red wine the morning of the last day of the autumn term (meaning that they always end up slightly more hyperactive and jittery and happy than usual). Maybe because Mr. Zhang is the type of person who easily breaks under pressure, deciding to get stressed over every single mistake made.

“ _C'mon_ , guys, we've been practising this song since _October_ ,” he's saying now, “think about looking up from your notes for once. You know this by now, trust yourselves. Trust me. You need to _look at me_. You're completely out of sync in the B-section. And the _crescendo_ in measure 46 needs to be more obvious, too.” He sighs. “Okay, let's take the same part again. Eyes on the conductor and you'll see what kind of magic that can ensue.”

The final rehearsal also always ends being longer than its meant to be. In the end they only have 45 minute break before the concert starts, instead of the planned hour and a half long one.

“Perfect winged eyeliner or a run to get something to eat?” Amari walks up to Soonyoung armed with a french horn case hanging on her shoulder and a transparent makeup bag in her hand. “Priorities, priorities.”

“Food always comes first.” He rips off a generous piece of his bread roll and stuffs it in her empty hand. She smiles at him thankfully. “Hey, have you seen Hao anywhere?”

She furrows her eyebrows. “I think I saw him by the toilets. He was talking to Mingyu.”

“Oh, I thought so,” Soonyoung says.

Amari opens her mouth, then closes it again.

“Amari, just spit it out.”

“Fuck, you caught me.” They laugh together. “I was gonna ask, but maybe it's too intrusive. Sorry. Are they like, together? Or, like, I just get those vibes. It's not as if they were making out in the corridor, but…” she trails off.

“No, I get it,” Soonyoung says. “Uh, I'm not really sure.”

She raises a single eyebrow. “You're not sure?”

Soonyoung thinks about Minghao and Mingyu. If they _did_ get together, it would make sense. If they didn't, that would also make sense. They're unclear in some way – just like Wonwoo and Junhui's whole thing. ( _If that even is a 'thing',_ Soonyoung thinks, _I have no idea._ )

“Like you said, platonic love is more important,” Soonyoung says, with a gentle smile. “Even if they're friends with benefits or in an actual relationship, all that's valid. But I don't really care about it. Not really. I only care about them as people, as my friends. You feel?” She nods. “The best part is that we're close, in whatever way.” He pauses, like he's about to continue, like he actually has something good to say. But he has nothing else to add.

Amari leans down and kisses him on the cheek.

He looks up at her. “What was that for?”

“I don't know,” she says, laughing. “You're a good 'un.”

“You're like my second mum,” Soonyoung says.

“Maybe I am.”

“Shit. Now _that_ would be a plot twist for the books.”

Someone calls that there's 30 minutes left until showtime, and suddenly the lights are dimming down and everyone is quieting down and Mr. Zhang is welcoming the audience. Soonyoung reckons that half an hour and life and everything goes too goddamn quickly.

Because _this is it._

This is his last end-of-term Christmas concert at East River.

He doesn't even care that his dad's probably not going to show up for the fourth year in a row. He doesn't care that his mother won't want to waste a ticket since she always buys two _just in case_ , meaning that she will probably bring his bigoted uncle along instead.

The thing is that he's not even remotely nervous.

Not even when the drums start on the opening segment to _Sing, Sing, Sing_. Not during their hardest, most abstract piece,  _Lux Aurumque._

He's just happy to be in this moment. Just happy.

Weird? Probably.

And because he's in love with moments like this and because life goes too quickly, Soonyoung's sitting at his last end-of-term Christmas concert at East high, and he's happy to be alive, and this is what he's been waiting for, and when they start playing _Moondance_ he looks up before his solo, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces. His mother. His uncle (maybe). Mingyu and Wonwoo. Minghao and Jun's families.

And there's one crucial mistake Soonyoung forgot to make.

_Always expect the unexpected._

And he gets tunnel vision again. Which he always gets when it's about _him_. Everything else goes away. The band, Mr. Zhang, his very own mother. The music. The stage. The lights. Everything narrows down to one person, on the fifth row, who realises that Soonyoung has met his gaze and gives him a soft smile, holding up one hand to wave.

Lee Seokmin.

That mother _fucker_.

There must be about a million thoughts circulating through his head in that moment, draining him of all the energy in his body. The happiness in him doesn't disappear but, for a second, he forgets that it exists.

For a second, Soonyoung thinks: _I have to get out of here._

For a second, he forgets where he is. Then he snaps himself out of it, and realises that Mr. Zhang is staring directly at him because it's his _solo_ coming up next and it feels like time has frozen just like his fingers on the sax's keys. _Let the thoughts pass by, like a cloud. Like a cloud. Like a cloud. Like a cloud._

He stands up.

He plays his solo the way he's played it a million times before, even though the entire room has gone up in flames and he's the only one who has noticed.

When he's finished, Mr. Zhang grins at him and yells out, _“Kwon Soonyoung!”_

The audience roars. Soonyoung sees Seokmin, and Seokmin sees Soonyoung.

_Why didn't I expect this to happen?_

He feels like he's losing his fucking mind.

When the concert has ended, Soonyoung stands up and bows with the rest of them, just like that. They play the encore and receive even more applause. They bow again, and that's it. It's over. _Just like that._

Amari hugs him on stage. Minghao and Junhui, too. He tells them that he needs to go outside and get some fresh air. Minghao asks him if he's okay. He says that he has a headache, and asks them if they can look after his sax for a second. They don't seem to believe him, but he turns around and walks away before they can respond.

As he's standing outside in the December air, he feels shame flare up inside of him. Yes – shame. That emotion. The useless one. _Sorry, Mum._

As he's standing there, the shame fills his entire body. It strangles him.

And that feeling – in that very exact moment – is almost enough to make the water balloon which is his body pop, but he manages to hold it inside of himself when he hears that the backdoor he exited from is being pushed open. He guesses that he had the world in his hands, yet he dropped it. Now it's just him, alone, trying to find it again.

“Soonyoung!” the person who came outside says. “Thought I'd find you here.”

Soonyoung whips his head around, and seeing Seokmin's grinning face sparks anger inside of him.

“God, Soonyoung.” There's genuine admiration in his voice. “Why didn't you tell me you're like, a fuckin' saxophone virtuoso?” Seokmin pushes his shoulder slightly. “That was amazing. The way you just– you just stood up and just–”

Soonyoung grits his teeth. “Seokmin, why are you here?”

Seokmin stops, tilting his head. “Hm? Your mother had an extra ticket so I ask–”

“No,” Soonyoung interrupts him again. “ _Why_ are you _here_?”

Seokmin has this confused look on his face. “Here?” He gestures to the building's awning that they're standing underneath.

Soonyoung is quiet.

“Soonyoung?”

He doesn't meet Seokmin's gaze, and he _hates_ the way his ears are reddening at the thought of Seokmin studying him the way he probably is. “Soonyoung, what's up?” His voice has completely changed tone.

“I'm struggling to get– I don't _get_ why you came here today,” Soonyoung says. “Why?”

“Because,” Seokmin says slowly, “I wanted to hear you play.”

“You shouldn't have come,” Soonyoung says. He's still looking at the ground.

“What?”

“I said, you shouldn't have come.”

“What?” Seokmin rakes his hand through his hair. “You're confusing me. Why not?”

“Why not?” Soonyoung scoffs. “ _Why not?_ Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? Jesus Christ, Seokmin.”

Seokmin's face falls. “Wh– I didn't know that you'd be– upset? Embarrassing? Why's it embarrassing?”

And then snow starts falling from the sky.

What a fucking cliché.

“Because–” Soonyoung decides to tell the truth, since everyone seems to be so _goddamn_ obsessed with it, “–shit. Shit, Seokmin. When you play the saxophone, like I do, there's this way you have to blow into it, okay? To get the right sound? And– and you have to puff your cheeks, you have to make your lips smaller. Like a tight line. You start sweating and your shoulders are hunched and your face goes all red and you look ugly. Like, seriously, you look _ugly._ I know you can't relate to that feeling.” Soonyoung tugs at his earring, feeling shame rise to his throat again, coalescing with the anger resting inside of him. “No one would want the _person they like_ to see them like that. _Shit._ No one! It's embarrassing. How could I ever play normally with _you_  sitting _right there_?” He almost spits out the last sentence.

_There it is._

Seokmin gapes at him for ten years. Then closes his mouth. Then opens it, and closes it. “I didn't realise– I–” he splutters out a few incoherent phrases whilst staring at Soonyoung. “I mean– _what?_ Is that it? That's why?” He looks completely in awe. Really. Seokmin. _Stunned into silence._

Soonyoung doesn't say anything.

“You think– How could you think you're _ugly_?” Seokmin says _ugly_ as if it were a curse word and they were in year two all over again. “Why would you?”

Silence.

More gentle this time, “How could you even say that about yourself?”

Silence.

Even gentler, “What? Is that seriously the reason?”

Silence.

Practically a whisper, “Soonyoung, do you know how beautiful you are?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I'm _serious_.”

Soonyoung turns his head up and meets his gaze at long last. He glares at Seokmin. “Don't. Don't get my hopes up, you shithead–”

“I'm _not_ , fuck,” Seokmin says. “I'm serious. I'm seriously _so_ serious.”

“Fuck you,” Soonyoung says, and he thinks he sniffles a little bit. He blames it on the cold.

“Soonyoung, you're beautiful.” He says it with such purity. Too pure, too honest for someone like Soonyoung; someone who drowns in his own mind and ideas of things that aren't reality.

And that moment turns into a needle for him.

“Oh, fuck, are you crying?” Panic falls into his voice, and his eyes shoot wide open. “No, no, _no,_ don't cry– No, why are you crying?”

“You made my water balloon burst,” Soonyoung says.

“Water balloon?”

“ _Yeah._ Water balloon.” His voice wobbles. “Shit.”

Seokmin looks at him. “Please, don't cry.”

“It's your fault,” Soonyoung says, rubbing at his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Well, I don't hate you,” Seokmin says.

“ _O Romeo, Romeo,_ ” Soonyoung says, and thinks back to the night of the egging incident. Those _fucking eggs._ What would his life be without those eggs?

Seokmin stands there, frozen to the spot. Hands awkwardly in the air. “Don't cry. Fuck, I don't know what to do when people cry.”

Soonyoung laughs. He's not sure why. Maybe laughing is something that only suddenly comes out at random times, like crying. “Had a lot of people crying over you, huh?”

Seokmin's face holds a million different emotions – some of which Soonyoung can't even place. But he seems to relax more at those words; his panic-stricken expression abating. “Of course.”

“This was not how I expected this moment to go,” Soonyoung says. He smiles. “God, I'm a mess. Honestly. Guess my life isn't such a cliché after all.”

“What moment?” Seokmin is grinning now.

Soonyoung shoots him a weary glare. “Don't make me say it again.”

“Say it again,” Seokmin says.

“Piss off,” Soonyoung says. “I hate you.”

“You never directly said it.”

“No.”

“Please.”

Seokmin steps closer to him. His entire face radiates warmth.

Instead, Soonyoung says, “You do _not_ want to like someone like me. Trust me.”

“Too late.”

 _Fuck._  

“Seriously,” Soonyoung says, because he can't think of anything else to say. Seokmin smiles at him, and it's with that smile he could melt the snow lightly touching the ground around them. Soonyoung just about implodes.

“I'm serious.” Seokmin steps even closer to him. _Is that even possible?_ “Soonyoung, I don't know what you think about yourself. I don't how you think it about yourself, but I'm not you. I'm me.” He exhales, and Soonyoung can see his breath as he does so. “You think bad about yourself – I get it. Most people do. Me too. I promise, I do. I get it. How do you think I look after doing an hour long  _tabata_ session? But now, I've gotten to know you and, yeah. You're confusing, you make bad jokes, you get angry, you complain. You cry, I guess. You overthink things. _I know_. Who said that's a negative thing? Just 'cause you have annoying, bad traits doesn't mean I like you any less. Everyone has bad traits. That's the truth. I'm not going to lie and say I like everything about you. No one likes _everything_ about a person. But those traits, good and bad, those are what make you, you. Not ugly, or– or a bad person, or whatever. Like, that's what makes you, _you_. Kwon Soonyoung, Soonyoung.”

Here's the thing about Seokmin: he cuts people's tongues off and leave them speechless.

Just like that.

He continues, “In _my_ eyes, you're not ugly. You're not. And I don't understand how you could say that because, in my eyes, you're– _beautiful_. I mean with– even with a red face, and sweat, or what _ever_. When I saw you on stage, you looked more gorgeous than ever. Shit!” He looks Soonyoung right in the eye, and Soonyoung realises that he's blushing, too. “Sorry. Talking too much.”

“It's fine,” Soonyoung says, surprised to find that he was able to utter a single word. “I like it when you talk.”

He doesn't really know what to say, and he sees in Seokmin's eyes that maybe that's okay, too.

They smile at each other.

Seokmin wipes his thumb over Soonyoung's right cheek. “Why did you only tell me you like me now?”

“I guess I was living in denial. I was trying to find things I hated about you instead.”

Seokmin laughs, and the earth is whole again. “Sounds about right. You're stubborn like that.”

Soonyoung tries not to think about things that he doesn't want or need to think about. _Like a cloud._ But after opening his mouth he can't stop the words from falling out, “What about Seungcheol and Hansol?”

“ _What?_ ” Seokmin says, almost incredulously. “Who cares about them? Fuck them.”

“Fuck them?”

“Yeah, fuck them. I'll just fight them, like you said. Maybe.”

“What about your dad?”

Seokmin shrugs. “I think you're overthinking again.”

“I don't know how not to.”

“S'okay.”

They're almost whispering now. Soonyoung's brain goes haywire as he realises that there's practically no space between them anymore. This is him, 17 years old. Feeling sick over a confession to some crush.

“I was embarrassed for a while,” he says. “I mean – over myself. My own feelings. Not you, obviously.” Soonyoung looks at Seokmin, and thinks that maybe he's not just 'some crush'. He's more than that. He's _Seokmin._ Seokmin, who he's been unknowingly infatuated with from the moment he said 'frankincense' in their primary school nativity play. That guy. “Then, you know, I got a grip.”

He thinks about Minghao's words, _“What's embarrassing about liking Seokmin? You've basically known him your entire life.”_

Seokmin laughs and says, “I'm glad.”

Soonyoung pauses, then says, “So, you like me. Seriously?”

Seokmin raises his eyebrows. “Nope, not really, I just preached for an hour about how _special_ you are and how _beautiful_ you are for the hell of it–”

Soonyoung leans up and kisses him.

No fireworks go off, no shark tanks break. There's no background violin music going from minor to major. It's just them and the view of the back of their high school and the faint sound of people streaming out from the concert and there's the snow and their frozen fingers and a cold breeze. Which could be something beautiful, too.

He cups Seokmin's cheeks gently, and Seokmin drops his arms to Soonyoung's waist, pulling him in and kissing him back with delicacy and it _is_ beautiful in its own way and his lips seem to taste a hint like chlorine. They stand like that for decades – not going any further than needed. Which is fine. _More than fine._

“Mum'll probably be calling for a search party by now,” Soonyoung says, when they break apart.

Seokmin presses kisses to the top of his head, then trails down to his cheeks, then kisses his nose three times in a row. “Overthinking, Kwon.”

“Get used to it, Lee.”

He feels Seokmin's breath on his face.

_Seokmin, Seokmin, Seokmin._

And, for the first time in a very long time, Soonyoung doesn't really need to think of anything at all.

He looks up and kisses Seokmin so hard that the entire world could fall off its axis.

 

 

 

( _Me: seokmin_

_Me: your eyes are like astrophyllite_

_eggboy: Like what_ )

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST OF ALL: if you've actually come this far and finished the entire story, I LOVE YOU!!!! this has been a monster to plough my way through, but i've also loved every bit of it
> 
> one of the things i wanted to focus on in astropyllite was the importance of platonic love/friendships :). hope i portrayed that well
> 
> if you somewhat enjoyed this and you're feeling nice today, you could always leave a comment. or come chat w me on [twitterino](https://twitter.com/greeneryrains)
> 
> thank you thank you <3


End file.
